


Hammer's Payback

by CFVici



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types
Genre: Damsels in Distress, Gen, Kidnapping, Miscarriage, Pepperony Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 54,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CFVici/pseuds/CFVici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivan Vanko ruined the Stark Expo. The world blamed Justin Hammer and made him pay. Hammer blamed Pepper Potts and Tony Stark and he's on a mission to get his payback. Set between IM2 and Avengers. Canon compliant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Iron Man fic. I don't pretend to know everything about Iron Man there is. I use Marvel's Earth 199999 canon, which is the cinematic universe. In cases where the tie-in prose (non-graphic) novels add information, I use the books as additional canon. Where the movies and novels conflict, I treat the movies as superseding.
> 
> This story is written such that it could have occurred between IM2 and Avengers without changing any movie canon.
> 
> I should mention that while I do proofread extensively, I do not consider anything I post to be ready for slash-and-burn critique. I would write another draft before attempting that stage, only after the entire story was complete and only if the first draft seemed worthy of further work. This is fanfiction. Fun and free. If Marvel offers to pay me, I'll do more rewrites.
> 
> While I do not hold chapters hostage for reviews, I readily admit that the more positive feedback and encouragement I get, the more I am motivated to write. I apologize to those who prefer to read for free and never write reviews, but the blunt truth is I am needy that way. I need the encouragement or my muse shrivels up and dies.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

From atop her high and mighty pedestal, Judge Christine Flanders gave the jury foreman a nod as she accepted the envelope containing the verdict. She read it herself and then glanced over the top of her reading glasses at the packed courtroom, her eyes landing briefly on the defendant before returning to the foreman. She nodded to him. "Please read it for the court."

"On the charges of…"

_Blah, blah, blah_. The defendant, Justin Hammer, tuned out all the legal mumbo-jumbo. He had the most expensive lawyers in the whole damned world. It was their job to pay attention to this kind of crap, not his. Another few seconds of standing here, playing meek and contrite in front of this old biddy, and this whole asinine trial business would be over. He could hardly wait to turn around and give Stark and Potts the finger and then get on with his life.

"…we the jury find the defendant guilty."

Hammer's guts fell about a thousand feet straight down, into the twilight zone of utter shock. The foreman was dismissed and the judge started blathering, but Hammer was still too stunned to process Missy Chrissy's pompous prattle. He only vaguely registered the end of her little speech:

"… hereby sentence you to twelve years in federal minimum security prison, to commence immediately." Her gavel slammed down on its block; its harsh wooden clack reverberated throughout the courtroom.

The audience erupted in a collective burst of chatter. Happy? Surprised? He couldn't tell.

The deposed weapons mogul stood there, numb. He was dimly aware of three extremely overpriced lawyers patting his back, whispering their empty platitudes.

"It could have been a lot worse."

"Don't worry, we'll appeal."

"That's Club Fed. They have tennis courts and a swimming pool."

Hammer didn't move. _This isn't real. Any second, I'll wake up_.

Some overweight cop-type pushed through the crowd around him and unceremoniously slapped handcuffs on his wrists.

_What the hell do you think you're doing?_ his mind screamed, but his mouth wasn't engaging for some odd reason. Why wasn't he waking up?

The lawyers backed away like he was some sort of pariah, all of them looking anywhere but at him. Hammer heard them discussing which restaurant to visit for lunch.

He was in chains here, about to be led off to a _cage_ , and they couldn't even make a show of sympathy? How about outrage at this miscarriage of justice? How could they eat at a time like this? He finally found his voice. "You said this wouldn't happen! You said you'd fix everything. You're fired—every last one of you, you bloodsucking, incompetent cheats!"

They sighed and shook their heads, only barely masking their apathy. Why should they care now, after already soaking him for everything he owned? _Bastards_. Hammer Industries was defunct and there would be no dividends coming while he was rotting away in some dilapidated hellhole. They squeezed all his money and his life away and then discarded him like spent shell casings.

The cop grabbed his upper arm and pressed him toward the door. Hammer looked over his shoulder at all the reporters gawking at him like some circus side-show. "What're you looking at?" he growled.

The guard shoved him harder.

"I'm going. I'm going," he complained loudly, even as he kept looking over his shoulder, scanning the crowd for the objects of his wrath.

His gaze caught the strawberry blonde first. Potts was glaring back at him with the same cut-throat aggression she'd displayed that night at the Expo—the night that was supposed to be his crowning glory and instead turned into his never-ending nightmare. Without her, he would only have lost a bunch of hardware, maybe a defense contract or two. No, that bitch had made it personal. This was all her fault and he hated her with every fiber of his being.

Only a fraction of a second later, Tony Stark's smug face appeared next to hers, sickeningly close, in fact. They were a couple? _With all the hot women throwing themselves at Stark, why in hell would he ever pick Potts?_ Hammer didn't concern himself with Stark's questionable taste in lovers. That was his problem. However, Stark had appointed that bitch as his CEO and thus set her against Hammer both personally and professionally. Not to mention, if Stark had kept his red and gold fancy pants out of the Expo, Vanko wouldn't have had any reason to ruin the presentation and go all psycho-revenge-dude on everyone. That Russian's meltdown and all the resulting injuries and general destruction were why everyone was so bent on throwing the book at him now. That was not his fault. That was Stark.

Hammer still wanted to fly the bird at Stark and Potts, but with his wrists cuffed and the cop now gripping his bicep hard, he couldn't physically manage it. Although he had more venom seething in his heart for the bitch, this was not the time to show it. The press was here, trolling for a juicy tidbit, and for some dumb reason, they seemed to like Potts—probably because she was a woman. Stark, however, was always fair game in the media.

"This isn't over, Tony!" he shouted. "You set me up. I'm not going to forget. Mark my words, you're gonna pay!"

Goatee-surrounded lips curled into a smirk while Stark fluttered his fingers in a juvenile wave. "Bye, Justin, sweet cheeks. Have a nice stay at Hotel Queer. Send you a postcard care of 'Head Twink,' shall I?" He added a few smooch sounds, barely heard over the laughter from the crowd.

Hammer would have shouted a comeback, but the guard had noticed his attempt to delay the inevitable and precluded it by giving a last hard shove, pulling the door shut behind them with a slam. "Hey, watch it!" Hammer whined. "Do you have any idea how much this suit cost?"

"This," the cop said through gritted teeth as he punched his prisoner in the gut, "is how much I care about your stupid suit. You're not calling the shots anymore, rich kid. Shut up and learn some respect."

* * *

Although the entire Hammer trial had been a media circus in the United States from its inception, worldwide news outlets had been mostly indifferent. International news did, however run footage of the final verdict, complete with Justin Hammer's dumbfounded reaction and Tony Stark's bawdy verbal jab as the convict was dragged out of the room. It played well as a bit of pseudonews fluff, even with the audio appropriately censored.

The king of Monaco and his staff had followed the trial with more attention than most. They'd had a vested interest in this ever since being denied extradition of the man who conspired to fake Vanko's death, killing fifteen people in the process of the prison breakout. The tiny country hadn't been too pleased when Hammer's lawyers had him declared a federal offender and kept him out of their reach.

They watched the clip, cheering at the "guilty" proclamation and sighing over the light sentence. While the penalty the Americans imposed was woefully inadequate to punish a murderer, Hammer hadn't actually been charged with the crimes committed on Monaco's soil yet. If he ever showed his face at the Grand Prix or a Monte Carlo casino, they would have him then. There was no statute of limitations.

Everyone, including the king, laughed at the difference between what Monsieur Stark said in English and the sanitized French translation flashed across the bottom of the screen. The billionaire playboy could be an arrogant jerk at times, but they had to admit he was entertaining.

* * *

Many miles from Monaco, more men squatted in a dimly lit bunker draped with a faded red flag depicting ten rings encircling two crossed scimitars. Mud walls, improvised electricity, and men who appeared not to have bathed or washed their clothes in months sharply contrasted the expensive-looking laptop computer upon which they watched the Al Jazeera broadcast of the same news clip. All original sound had been purged in favor of an Arabic commentary which only gave the barest of details.

A few of the men in the bunker knew enough English to make out some of what was said by reading lips. However, no knowledge of English or lip-reading was required to read the faces and the body language of the spoiled Americans who appeared on their screens, acting more like bickering 10-year-olds than adults.

"Perfect," said a heavily-accented, deep voice. "This will fit quite nicely into our plans."

Those sitting closest to the speaker nodded while the rest of the men continued cleaning weapons, eating, or playing cards. They didn't need to agree. They didn't need to think. All they needed to do was follow orders.


	2. Chapter 2

The Stark Expo had ended early thanks to Ivan Vanko. Too many buildings had been demolished or damaged, and opinion polls showed people were afraid to come back even if they got repaired. As much as it pained Tony to let it go, he now had another legacy of his father's—the clean energy arc reactor—to fill his time.

He petitioned to have the new element named 'Badassium' with atomic symbol Bm, but he encountered resistance in the scientific community. Some nuclear physicists simply had no sense of humor and others were arguing it wasn't even a new element at all, but a higher-energy allotrope of Vibranium, like diamond was a harder allotrope of carbon than graphite. He _was_ being rather secretive about its specs and synthesizing methods. That much power could be perverted into an awful weapon, not to mention, he rather liked being ten years ahead of all the competition in the energy race.

Fury had said it would start an energy revolution that would dwarf the arms race. Tony was absolutely committed to that goal and Stark Tower would be the shining beacon declaring his triumph to the world. He'd unplug from the grid and power his skyscraper solely by arc reactor.

Indeed, it was probably the allure of the Clean Energy Project that finally convinced Pepper to stop trying to step down as Stark Industries' CEO. She'd tried to quit on the night of Vanko's rampage, and another time since then, but Tony never accepted her heat-of-the-moment resignations and after telling her about his rediscovery of his father's work, she'd been captivated. Good thing, too. She was the best CEO he could hope for and he didn't want to replace her with anyone inferior, or be stuck with the job himself.

Pepper was spending a lot of time in New York, working on Stark Tower, but Tony preferred living in his Malibu mansion. The Mark V suitcase armor had been repaired since Monaco, so he could fly out to see her any time he wanted. She had use of the company jet, so she could come home to California any time she wanted as well. It wasn't an ideal arrangement, but until the R&D floors and the penthouse were ready, he would sacrifice travel time for the comforts of home. The Mark VI still needed some work to get it back to where it was before Whiplash and the Hammeroid drones abused it. His basement garage was still the best place to accomplish that.

Tony and Pepper actually saw more of each other now than they had when they were both living in California. SI employed some of the best minds in the world, but this was a new spin on arc reactor tech and they couldn't possibly manage it without expertise from Stark himself. Tony knew this, but he avoided them anyway—partly to force them to think for themselves and partly because Pepper was so incredibly hot when she got all passionate about Stark Tower and had to play intermediary between him and the other SI geeks. He loved it when she got all flustered and he was pretty sure she knew it and played it up just to tease him.

Being bi-coastal meant they had to plan for time together and it deterred Tony from taking Pepper for granted as much as he had done in the past. That was probably a blessing in disguise, since he was still rather new to the whole steady relationship thing, but he'd never admit how much he struggled to keep the playboy party animal in check.

He did rather miss having a personal assistant, since the duplicitous 'Natalie Rushman' dropped him like a hot potato to go play spy babe for Director Eyepatch just when she was getting interesting. Still, Tony was never one to let boredom take hold. If he wasn't working on the Energy Project or out saving the world, he had fast cars and tinkering with his armor to keep him busy.

He was down in the basement, doing some repairs on the battle-damaged Mark VI, when JARVIS interrupted his thoughts.

"Sir, Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes is hovering outside your living room window, asking to speak to you."

"Rhodey? Put him on." Tony waited only a second for the A.I. to make the connection. "Do I need to report a peeping tom or did you bring back the War Machine?" The only other way he'd be hovering was if he was in a helicopter or a Harrier. Helicopters were not Rhodey's style and a Harrier would be blasting up all kinds of saltwater on the custom panoramic window glass he'd just installed last month, replacing the one he and Rhodey had destroyed at Tony's birthday party. Tony had half a mind to send him out there with a bottle of Windex and a squeegee if he was messing with his view.

"No, I'm out here flapping my wings. You gonna let me in or what?"

Tony hit the button to activate the iris opening into the garage. JARVIS usually did it automatically for him and he'd eventually program him to do it for Rhodey too. The War Machine glided down feet first. It, too, was still a bit battle-damaged, but some of the smaller dents had been pounded out. The added weaponry housings had been repaired completely. In all, it really didn't look that bad. Tony rather liked most of the upgrades to the Mark II.

Rhodey waited until the last possible moment to cut the thrusters, so he only had an inch or two to drop, making no more sound than someone setting down a highball on a bar. Tony expected nothing less from the Air Force's finest. He gave his friend a nod in greeting. "Nice landing."

The faceplate opened. "Thanks. I try."

"So, did you finally get your car fixed, or did you come to make more excuses?"

"I already said I was sorry."

"So you admit it's mine?"

Rhodey took deliberate strides directly to the gantry platform Tony had used for the earlier models. It only briefly surprised Tony he knew where to stand, but he would have to have known to get the armor on in the first place. Metal plates in the floor slid open and mechanical arms reached out automatically and began disassembling the War Machine. "I brought it back, just like I promised."

Tony happened to know his friend had tried to do this sooner, but the Air Force brass wouldn't let him. How hard was it for him to restrain himself from mentioning just how close he had come to ending his career over this? Tony decided to honor his restraint by not pushing him to admit it. "Yes you did. Hey, I forgot to ask, what did you think?"

His friend stepped off the platform, now wearing only a pale yellow polo and khaki slacks. "You want my professional opinion?"

"You're a military aviator, right? Who better to judge an armed flying suit?"

"I thought you testified under oath that it was a prosthesis?"

Tony smirked. "Fine. Flying prosthesis. Your assessment as a pilot then."

Rhodey looked at him and grinned. "Two words: It rocks."

Tony noted the grin, but he looked down at the Mark VI parts, feigning disinterest in the conversation. "So you wouldn't be averse to the idea of using it again?"

Both hands shot up in surrender. "I'm not gonna steal from you, Tony."

"No, I meant authorized use—after I get all that Hammer crap off it, of course." He gestured toward the War Machine pieces with a wrench.

Brown eyes grew wide and Rhodey leaned in to use his hush-hush voice. "You serious?"

"We did work well together, didn't we?"

"After you got control returned to me, hell, yeah. We kicked ass."

"Good. The military can't have it, but the Secretary of Defense accepted my proposal to give access to you, and you alone."

"You're giving it to me?"

" _Access_. Still technically property of Stark Industries, but I decided you're right. I don't want to be the lone gunslinger. I want someone I can trust to have my back. Better you than anyone Senator Stern might prick—uh, pick."

Rhodey chuckled, but the joke wasn't funny enough to distract him completely. Tony saw understanding dawn in his eyes as to why he'd finally been allowed to return the suit. Tony hated the fact some fat cats in the Pentagon cared less about a colonel's career and honor than they had about a piece of hardware, but _Tony_ cared. This compromise ensured that Rhodey and no one else would ever be using it. Having the Hammer drones after him was bad enough, but Tony never wanted to see his own creation on his six and the operator telling him he had missile-lock.

"I told them I was encoding it to your DNA and if anyone else gets inside, they'll be ejected Robocop-style."

"You want my DNA?" He held out his hand as if offering a sample right there.

Tony shrugged. "Eventually, when I actually have the technology to back up the bluff."

Now Rhodey really laughed.

"Don't rat me out. It protects both of us. And I do intend to add it when I get the chance, just some other things ahead of that on my priority list." He gestured with his wrench again, waving it over the Mark VI wreckage.

"No, I like the bluff," Rhodey said. "So I really get to use it again?"

Tony nodded. "You have to keep it here or on base, if they can prove to your satisfaction their locker is secure enough. If you break anything, you fix it personally or bring it back to me. No calling any of my old competitors to come snooping inside my designs, getting ideas of their own, or looking for ways to commandeer it."

"Fair enough. I did remove the reactor before Hammer came in on the project."

"Probably the smartest thing you did. He'd have taken it back to Vanko and we'd still be fighting those drones."

"So, how long before she's fixed?" Rhodey canted his head in the direction of the armor he'd just left.

"She? War Machine is a _she_?"

"No, the _armor_ is a she—a sweet hottie who wants nothing better than to wrap herself around my every body part and hug me tight." He pressed his index finger into his chest. " _ **I**_ am War Machine."

Tony couldn't suppress a smile."Exactly what I'd want my sidekick to say. Thanks for bringingherback, buddy."

"Thanks for coding her tome, real or not. The threat's enough."

_Yep, that's what I figured too._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how much time Marvel puts between IM2 and Avengers, but assuming Stark Tower was built from scratch and not started before the new "element" was discovered, I should have at least 2 years to play with. If Stark Tower was already there and just "converted" to arc power, it could be much less, but I still have no definitive number to use, so please indulge me with the time passage. I'd like to see Hammer have time to really get desperate.
> 
> Also, WARNING: Homosexual rape in a prison setting is mentioned in this and the next chapter. It is NOT described, detailed, or condoned, but if mere mention will squick you out, you may wish to skip the next two chapters.

Hammer couldn't remember anymore how long he'd been locked up. It seemed like years. Sure, whoever built this place tried to make it look less like a cage, but anyone who thought this was anything close to a country club had obviously never been a member of a real one. No masseuse. No drink service. No beautiful women in bikinis. And the food absolutely sucked. He didn't expect them to serve organic gelato and salmon carpaccio, but the reality was far worse than he could have imagined. It was even worse than public school cafeterias, and doubly so because he had no other choice, day in and day out. Bland, overcooked, and everything was either mushy slop or hard enough to chip a tooth. They couldn't even make a decent slice of toast.

Stark had been right about the twink thing and while it sickened Hammer to be used like that, at least it bought him protection from having his "pretty boy" face bashed in and his stomach punched every time he turned around. A couple of his "protectors" even slipped him an occasional butterscotch or hard peppermint because they thought he was getting so weak that he'd end up in the infirmary, and therefore not available to be their toy. Hammer didn't ask where they got candy, but he'd lost any kind of pride that might have provoked him to refuse. He dreamed of tootsie pops nearly every night.

"Hammer, you got an attorney consultation," one of the guards droned.

 _That's odd. I fired all my lawyers._ Maybe one of them was trying to get back on his payroll. He would utterly enjoy telling whoever it was to go to hell. No one had ever visited him before, but he was fine with that. He didn't want to be seen like this. He would have refused the lawyer too, but for the promise of some entertainment. He made no comment as he followed the guard to the visitation area. He was led to a different room from the one where all the other guys saw their wives, girlfriends, kids, and mothers. The door was marked "Confidential."

The guard opened the door and stepped aside to let Hammer enter, then he left and locked the door behind him. The prisoner saw immediately this was not one of his lawyers. He couldn't be older than 25 and he wore a suit that looked like he got it off the rack at Wal-Mart. He was also quite ethnic, like maybe Mexican or Indian or something. Hammer didn't really know how to tell races apart, except he didn't think he was African-American. The hair was jet black, but straight. _Has to be an intern or office flunky_. "If you're from Bowker, Simon, and Doubleday, I'm not changing my mind. The entire firm is fired and that's final."

"Please sit, Mr. Hammer," the man said with a heavy accent. It sounded like the typical customer support accent—India or the Philippines.

Hammer slid into the chair. "Where are you from?"

"My name is Amar Tariq Deshpande. I was hired by your _sister_." Here, he paused to give him a probing look.

 _Does he know?_ Hammer shook his head mildly. "I don't have a sister."

"Really?" Amar _Whatever_ opened a file folder. "Records indicate your mother gave birth to a girl five years before you were born. Ashley Marie Hammer."

"She died in a drowning accident when she was three."

"Yet she owns a Swiss bank account and several other holdings which you manage for her." The file folder yielded up bank statements, property deeds, dummy corporation documents and various other pieces of evidence that could get Hammer in serious trouble with the IRS—maybe even more trouble than he was already in. He laid them out on the table, making sure Hammer could see what each piece of paper represented.

"You're my lawyer, right? This is privileged information," Hammer warned, slapping his hands down on the papers.

The dark-skinned man carefully gathered all the documents back into the file folder, pulling them firmly from under his grasp without asking permission or offering apology. "Since, as you pointed out, you have no sister, then it is true no one has hired me as your lawyer. Therefore, you will cease speaking to me as if I am beholden to you. I am _not_ your employee. However, you should consider perpetuating this cover with the guards and other inmates, because only lawyers may speak to prisoners without the security cameras and listening devices."

So this slick young darky had dirt on him, and he knew there was still money out there that he'd managed to keep hidden. Hammer had originally done it for tax purposes, but he'd also kept it from from his lawyers, so they couldn't sell it off like they'd already done his house, his cars, and all his stock in Hammer Industries. "So what is this, blackmail? You handle my appeal and take all my..." he curled twin fingers in air quotes, " _sister's_ property in payment, and if I refuse, you leak that file and I get further screwed." Hammer tried not to think of the literal ramifications of the word he chose, but everyone said _this_ was the 'easy' place to do time. He couldn't wrap his head around anything actually worse.

Amar showed no shock on his face and his voice was calm when he spoke. "Actually, Mr. Hammer, we don't want any of this." He lifted the file about four inches and dropped it back on the table.

" _We?_ "

"I am not at liberty to reveal who sent me. You are not in any position to demand that information, so I suggest you banish your curiosity."

"You dug up my secrets, but you're not here to cash in, so what _do_ you want?"

"We wish to do for you what you did for Ivan Vanko. Wonderful, the irony, is it not?"

This guy said he wasn't his lawyer, so Hammer wasn't sure if he could still claim attorney-client privilege. "What do you think I did?"

Darky opened his briefcase and placed the file folder in it. "If you don't want our help, that is your concern. Good day, Mr. Hammer."

"Wait. I didn't say I didn't want your help. Come on. I don't have any idea who you are or what you want. How do I know I can trust you?"

He shrugged. "You do not. But you did not ask Vanko if he wanted your help before you gave it to him, did you?"

The man had a point. He'd gone to the trouble of lying about being his lawyer so they could talk privately. How much better could Hammer really expect it to get? "You're right. Don't go."

"I am here to help you, but do not make the mistake of thinking you are in control of this deal. You will owe us and if you do not keep your side of the bargain—"

"You'll take everything I have left."

Amar nodded curtly. "After we kill you."

Before he arrived here, Hammer wouldn't have agreed to anything that put him in anyone else's debt to that degree or risked jeopardizing his legal appeal. But his outlook had changed. This place was intolerable and he was ready to do anything to get out. "What's my side of the bargain?"

"We want Iron Man."

 _Get in line_. Hammer bit down the urge to say it aloud. "I had two dozen drones and a Russian genius with badass armor and it wasn't enough. I don't have any of that anymore and last I heard, Hammer Industries was being chopped up and sold in pieces."

"It is rumored you are a smart man. When you come up with a plan, we will get you out. I will check back in a week."

"Wait. A week? No!" Panic entered his tone, although he fought to hide it. "I know how to get to him: Pepper Potts. Kidnap her and demand the armor as ransom. If he doesn't have his suit, Stark is just a blowhard. Bullet to the brain and he's gone." He surprised himself with the level of violence he was suggesting. Publicly, he'd always treated their rivalry like professional wrestling—a lot of smack-talk and posturing, just to keep them both in the press. They could even pretend to be civil if the situation warranted it. But prison had changed him. He still wanted Stark's reputation ruined and he really wanted him to suffer, but in the end, nothing was as important as removing him from the picture—permanently.

Darky quirked a brow. "This plan would be acceptable. Are you certain you can do it?"

"You already know what I'm capable of or you wouldn't be here, would you?" Hammer felt some of his old swagger return. It wouldn't come fully until he was out of this place, but he felt more like himself than he had on months.

The mysterious "lawyer" reopened the briefcase and removed the file folder again. He shuffled through the documents and selected one to set in front of his "client" on the table. "We highly recommend _this_ as your base of operations. It was the most difficult item to connect to you and we erased the connection after we found it. No one will find you here."

Hammer grinned. He hadn't been there in a while, but it was indeed a very stealthy little hideaway. "Yeah, I can fly us out there."

"No you can't. Your pilot was an employee of Hammer Industries and your Gulfstream G5 was not in your sister's name."

Which meant it was no longer his. _Damn_. "Do I have any resources at all?"

Amar patted the folder. "Only what's in here. But as I said, we wish to assist you. You should be ready to give us a list of your needs as soon as we perform the extraction."

 _Extraction. I like that._ "So what's the plan? File in a cake?"

The briefcase was still open. The lawyer moved more papers out of the way and pulled out what looked like a plastic brownie pan in a ziplock bag. He removed it from the briefcase and then removed the pan from the bag, carefully keeping it horizontal. Hammer could now see the "pan" contained a pink powder. Also in the bag was a small jar of petroleum jelly, which the lawyer passed to him. "Apply this to your entire face."

Hammer removed his glasses and smeared the nasty stuff all over his face. This was rather beneath him, but wasn't everything in this hellhole? He didn't want to give his benefactor any reason to run out.

Darky twisted off the cap of a water bottle and dumped it in the pan. Using what looked like a fudgesicle stick ( _Who got to eat that?_ Hammer wondered miserably), Amar stirred the water and powder together. It formed a pink liquid and then a gel, as best as Hammer could tell without his glasses. Amar stopped stirring and slid the pan across the table to Hammer. "This is for your face impression."

"Wait. How am I supposed to breathe?"

"It is quick-set. You can hold your breath for ten seconds, can you not?"

Why did this feel like the set-up to some cruel practical joke? He stared at the pan of pink goop.

His hesitation provoked Darky to the harshest tone yet. "Do it now or your extraction will be delayed."

Hammer leaned over the table, drew a deep breath, and lifted the pan up to meet his petroleum jelly-greased face. The goop squished into his eye sockets, around to his ears, and under his chin. He had a good idea what it was going to be used for, so he did his best to keep still while the mud hardened. He counted off the seconds in his head, but left it there a little longer for good measure.

"Lift slowly from one end," Amar instructed.

Hammer pulled the chin end first. A sucking noise accompanied the release of the vacuum and a perfect imprint of his face remained in the plastic tray.

The lawyer returned the tray and the vaseline jar to the plastic bag, zipped it closed, and hid it beneath file folders and papers in the briefcase. He tossed Hammer a wet-nap.

As the prisoner cleaned the petroleum jelly from his face, the lawyer latched the briefcase and stood. "We will be in touch, Mr. Hammer."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized while writing this chapter that "Amar" was a bad name choice. Too close to "Hammer". I'd refer to him as "Deshpande" except I don't think Hammer would have picked up the full name from one introduction. My apologies.

Hammer was excited about his impending jailbreak for the rest of the day. He started planning how he'd get to Potts and what he'd say to Stark when he got the chance.

However, after a dinner of pig slop and his evening abuse session, followed by sleeping on the thin piece of foam they called a bed, everything got a little fuzzy. He dreamed of Stark planting a pie in his face and the pie filling was bubble gum. Ivan Vanko and clay-mation fudgesicles taunted him in broken English while Amar kept flying by in the Gulfstream G5 with his head out the cockpit window, like some dog on a joyride. It was entirely possible what he recalled from the day before was actually just part of that crazy dream he had.

It was also entirely possible he was going insane. However, since he had nothing better to do, he indulged his fantasy and planned Stark's demise. If Amar was real, he—or perhaps his bosses, whoever they were—would not be happy if he didn't have that list ready. Hammer wanted to believe the breakout could be imminent, so nearly every waking moment was devoted to plotting his revenge.

The deliciousness of his mental activity distracted him a bit too much, and he wasn't as careful in the dining hall as he should have been. He normally sat with one of his "protectors". They liked to show off their "toys" the way Hammer used to show off his clothes, cars, and whatever hot chick he could land a date with.

Deep in thought, he chose his dinner table absently. He realized his mistake too late and it earned him several punches in the face. His glasses didn't break, but once they were knocked off his face, the goon who'd found a punching bag must have thought he hit the jackpot. Hammer's nose ended up bleeding and he got a black eye and a cut on the cheek. Unfortunately, this was not enough to warrant a night in the relatively safe infirmary.

A jaded doctor applied a butterfly tape on the cut and gave him a bag of ice for the swelling, but then the guards escorted him back to his miserable cell and left him there to be verbally harassed and made fun of the rest of the night. With his nose and eye throbbing like a bitch, and all the taunting through the bars, he found it harder to concentrate on his kidnapping scheme, but at least he'd missed the evening "free time" which usually meant rape-the-twink.

The next day, he was much more careful to pay attention to his surroundings, kiss up to the right inmates, and steer clear of the wrong ones. The pain diminished to a mere dull ache, but that was tolerable enough to let him entertain more thoughts of revenge. Everything had to be mentally rehearsed because he couldn't afford to write anything down, even with a crayon. (Pencils and pens were were too sharp to be allowed.) The list compiling in his head was too incriminating to commit to paper, napkin, or even the back of his hand.

Just about the time he'd memorized the plan and the list to the point of boredom, he started to wonder, again, if there was any point. For all he knew, Amar Blah-Blah-Whatever was just a figment of his imagination, or worse, real, but utterly insincere. Giving him hope like that to turn around and ignore him was exactly the kind of joke he'd expect from all those idiots who laughed at his sentencing. Hope started to fade. It was actually only three days since the first meeting with Amar, but it seemed weeks now.

And then, without warning, Amar returned, bringing an associate with him. The new guy's suit wasn't Armani, but it was a step up from the "Wal-Mart special" suit Amar wore. New Guy had wavy red hair and he wore round John Lennon-ish spectacles with tinted lenses. Since Hammer had been waiting and watching, he saw them outside—behind security fencing, of course—before they entered the building.

A guard came to fetch Hammer and he did his level best to act indifferent as he was escorted to the private consultation room. Amar introduced his associate as Mark O'Dell, but it was clearly a ruse for the guards. Once the door was locked, Amar's business tone vanished. "Take all your clothes off," he ordered.

Hammer immediately began doing it, eyeing the briefcase for what he assumed would be replacement clothes. However, O'Dell also started stripping off his suit and taking Hammer's discarded prison garb. Hammer flashed Amar a questioning look, and Amar nodded at the pile of tailored suit pieces left by O'Dell. They were trading clothes.

O'Dell also removed a wig, revealing blond hair which was colored and cut exactly like Hammer's. As Hammer was buttoning up the shirt, he noticed how well the clothes fit too. This guy was nearly his twin. Amar opened his briefcase and removed two latex masks—Hollywood quality, not cheap Halloween stuff. O'Dell started applying adhesive to his Hammer mask while Justin pulled the red wig over his head. O'Dell placed Hammer's glasses on. Amar made them both stop for a moment, so he could study the real Hammer and his doppelganger side-by-side.

"How'd you know about the black eye?" Hammer asked. That had happened after the impression was taken but the mask had been altered to look exactly like his present appearance, butterfly dressing and everything.

O'Dell spoke for the first time, and when he did, it shocked Hammer to hear his own voice impersonated. "You don't think I'd try to pretend I was you without studying you, do you? We've been watching all the security footage for weeks."

Which meant he knew the routine. But that much preparation still seemed like overkill _unless_...

"Uh, you don't wanna be around after dinner, man."

"Yes, I do," the twin said.

 _Oh, you're gay_. Hammer took a second to school his response into something less prejudiced than his gut reaction. This guy was doing him a huge favor; he needed to play nice. Maybe this place did seem like a country club if one's attractions ran that way.

O'Dell shook his head as if reading his thoughts. "I've been in _real_ prison before. This is no big deal. The glue on this..." He tapped his mask. "...will last a week, but it's really your choice when the charade gets discovered. Then they interrogate me, threaten me, and finally ship me off to someplace a lot worse."

Amar interrupted, "And the transfer is when he'll be extracted."

Hammer finished tying the laces on the immaculately polished leather shoes O'Dell had worn in. Amar handed him the O'Dell mask and the adhesive bottle. It took a little longer for him to get it right than his twin had taken. Evidently O'Dell had done it before and knew what he was doing. The John Lennon glasses were even the right prescription and the tint Hammer had seen outside was gone now. They were sun-sensitive.

There was no mirror, so he couldn't see how he looked, but O'Dell made sure everything was adjusted properly, especially the wig, which Hammer had put on backwards at first. Amar put the adhesive bottle back in the briefcase.

Hammer's twin sat at the table and hunched his shoulders, staring into space. _Do I look that pathetic?_ the real Hammer thought.

Amar motioned for Hammer to follow him, nudging his head up from the habitual downturn. They knocked and waited for the prisoner to be collected, Hammer unconsciously holding his breath while waiting to see if the switch was noticed. O'Dell, however, was perfect, and the guard didn't even look twice.

Once the prisoner was gone, the exit door buzzed open and they walked out nonchalantly.

"Stop smiling," Amar said ventriloquist-style, "You're an attorney with a lot of work to do on an impossible appeal and it's only Wednesday afternoon."

Hammer couldn't remember how it felt to take freedom for granted, but he knew he'd done it before. Besides, his benefactor was right. Happy lawyers were such a rarity it would blow his cover.

Amar led Hammer to his Beemer and started the engine. He handed Hammer his iPhone. "Here, play Angry Birds or something. You'll look more normal."

Hammer took it and started fiddling around as Amar drove. He wasn't that great with computers to begin with, and this one had a different iOS than he was used to, so it took a while to make it do what he wanted, but he finally found the Stark Industries home page. Knowing that Pepper Potts' and Tony Stark's public appearance schedules would only be a few clicks away now, he looked up to see the Beemer had already passed the vehicle checkpoint. He was out. He was free.

He studied the schedules meticulously, committing the important dates and places to memory. It occurred after he memorized them, that he could have used paper and pen again. If the phone had been his, he could have typed himself a memo. Since the wheels were turning now and Amar wasn't talking, Hammer took it upon himself to break the silence. "How do you want that list?"

"Ah, you are wasting no time. Most excellent. Do not put it on the phone. It is not secure."

Hammer seemed to remember some privacy scandals mentioned in the news, but hadn't cared enough to pay attention. He had no sympathy for people on the outside who had decent food, clothes that fit, and no danger of being an unwilling boytoy to a guy named Thumper.

The car came to a stop outside his favorite sweet shop. It was combination candy store, bakery, and café, a place he'd dreamed about for months. It would have surprised him to end up here, but if Amar knew about his sister's holdings, surely he had seen Hammer's credit card records and knew how much he used to spend at this particular purveyor of heavenly goodness.

Amar handed him a platinum credit card in Mark O'Dell's name. "Go stock up for your trip to your Villa. You're leaving in an hour."

Hammer couldn't decide whether to ask what his credit limit was or question why the unnecessary indulgence. These people had gone to a lot of trouble to spring him from the slammer and he knew good and well it wasn't just to be nice. He finally decided their catering to his sweet tooth happened for the same reason he bought Vanko a cockatoo—an empty little gesture meant to impart the appearance of caring. They would use it against him just as easily if he didn't deliver what they wanted. Fine. He could play that game. He'd milk it for what it was worth.

Besides, these people wanted the same thing he did, Stark dead and Potts to suffer. It probably wouldn't hurt if she ended up dead too, but maybe he could break her like he'd been broken in prison, make her willing to do what was previously unthinkable and unpleasant in order to avoid pain or death. The idea made him grin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am operating under the assumption that a T-audience is not going to be disturbed to have birth control/condoms mentioned in a story. If you are reading and have no idea what a condom is or how it works, please ask a PARENT or other trusted adult, not a peer, not Google. Oh, and don't PM me to ask either. It would be inappropriate for me to explain that. And please, don't be ashamed of your innocence. Just filter for K ratings and enjoy childhood while you can.

Pepper Potts awoke to another freezing New York morning. She missed southern California on days like this. Her Park Avenue apartment was heated, of course, but she couldn't spend the entire day in her apartment. She'd have to bundle up like an Eskimo and brave the elements. The snow had been pretty the first time she saw it falling, but now it was all dirty and nowhere near as appealing. And the wind. What in the world was up with that freaking windchill factor? She'd never paid attention to such things before moving here. At least the snow didn't get into parking garages, but that freezing-to-the-bone wind managed to permeate anything that wasn't strictly indoors and heated.

She understood why the arc reactor was more important here than it could ever be in Los Angeles. These people would literally die without power in the winter. Californians needed power for their air conditioning and to run business, but those weren't life and death. Okay, sometimes people died in heat waves, but she had known people who didn't have air conditioning at all. One could live without it. She didn't see how it was humanly possible to live without heat in New York.

Unfortunately, it was the thing she hated most about New York that kept her from petitioning the Board (and Tony, who still held the majority of stock in SI) to just build the first clean energy building in Los Angeles, so she didn't have to be here. Besides, she was the one who insisted on overseeing the entire project. She could have hired someone else to do this. She could have arranged it so she just dropped in every few weeks to get a progress report and do a few inspections. But every time she thought about it, she knew she couldn't let go. This was _important_. Like the kind of important that outweighed her comfort and personal time.

And there _were_ sacrifices. Missing California with its mild winters was hard, but it was nothing compared to being separated from Tony.

She'd had a crush on Tony Stark ever since she started working at Stark Industries as an accountant. But then, who didn't? After one week as his personal assistant, she found it easier to keep her infatuation in check. She didn't want to be just another one of his one-night-stands. Her crush was never completely eradicated, just pressed into the back burner category of silly schoolgirl fantasy along with having a fairy godmother and winning the lottery. She channeled her devotion into managing his appointments and trying to put out all the public relations fires he started. And she was good at it.

But everything had changed after Afghanistan. She didn't believe it at first, but Tony _was_ different now. And now that he was no longer interested in one-night-stands, she could hardly believe that the one woman he would give that all up for was _her_. Not some knock-out model or Hollywood star. Her—Virginia Potts, the plain and ordinary.

It had been a rocky start, complicated by suddenly becoming CEO and Tony hiding the fact that the palladium in his chest was both keeping him alive and killing him, not to mention the enormous pressure involved in him being Iron Man. He should have listened to Rhodes and Coulson. He should have lied to the press and never admitted it. But then he wouldn't be Tony Stark.

So here they were, a high-profile billionaire superhero and the CEO of a major technology company, trying to have a relationship while living on opposite coasts. Pepper couldn't wait to see him again tonight. However, there was an entire day's work to be done before she could board the company jet and go home.

She rolled out of bed and dragged herself into the bathroom. Her stomach growled a protest, but she wasn't especially hungry. It was the eighth day in a row she wasn't feeling well. She'd almost convinced herself it was just the cold getting to her. She didn't have any flu symptoms, just that rumbly stomach. But now that her period was four days late, another possibility niggled at her mind. Last night, she had picked up a home pregnancy test to rule out the possibility. The chances were extremely remote, but she wanted proof so she could stop worrying. The test said to wait for first morning urine, so she had it ready on the sink counter. A dip in the stream and then she set it aside to develop while she showered. Once she had that minus sign to quash her worry, she could explore other causes. Maybe she wasn't getting enough sunshine in this blizzard world. That could make a person sick, right?

The hot water felt good and she lingered just a little. She might not have time to take another shower before seeing Tony, so she wanted to be as thorough as possible. She grabbed a towel and stepped out onto a cheesy pink rug she'd owned since college. It made this cold, lonely place feel just a little more like home.

She started to dry off when her eye caught the pregnancy test. Her jaw dropped. Positive. _Omigosh, what am I going to do?_ She stood there, dripping, staring at the piece of plastic with that big glaring plus sign.

Tony had moved so slowly with her that she'd wondered at times if he was waiting to meet her parents or marry her or something. The night it finally happened, she'd been totally unprepared. She apologized for not being on the pill. Most of her adult life, she hadn't needed to bother because anyone she dated just couldn't measure up to her fantasy, no matter how far-fetched she knew it was. She wouldn't sleep with some other guy while thinking about Tony Stark.

Tony just laughed and gobbled up her admission to feed that monster ego of his. _Of course_ she couldn't think about anyone else while he was around. But he couldn't quite hide from her how much it touched him, how regretful it made him for being so indiscriminate in his past. "I got this," he promised. "Don't worry."

She of all people knew how many women he had been with. In the old days, she had been the one to _buy_ his protection for him, just like she handled so many other aspects of his personal life. He must have been incredibly careful or there would have been paternity suits by now. Pepper would bet everything she had that women had tried to trap Tony that way and never succeeded despite his often-inebriated state.

When he said he had it covered, she believed him. _Well, coverage must have leaked_. Panic entered her mind. Would Tony think she was trying to trap him? Would he want a baby? Was she ready to be a mother?

Suddenly, she felt a lot sicker and found her head over the toilet. _Dammit, I wanted tonight to be so special_. She briefly entertained the notion of putting off telling him. She should go see a doctor and get a professional diagnosis first, shouldn't she? But no sooner had the idea occurred to her but she knew she couldn't do it. It would be wrong after having berated him for not telling her he was dying of palladium poisoning, plus, she didn't think she could sit there and chat about building contractors and budget concerns with something like this hanging over her head. In fact, the more she thought about it, the harder she was fighting not to Skype him right now.

However, it was 3AM in Malibu—not the best time to spring news like this, even if Tony happened to be awake. No, she would wait until she saw him in person. Tonight.

Pepper finished drying off and dressed, barely able to stop thinking about pregnancy long enough to get her buttons in the right buttonholes. Coffee, her normal morning energizer, didn't sound good today. Would she have to watch her caffeine intake now? Sometime in the distant past, she remembered reading that saltine crackers were good for morning sickness. She scoured her pantry, looking for some, but the closest thing she could find was those hideous cheese crackers with peanut butter sandwiched inside and packed in a serving-sized rectangular cube. They looked like they had been sat on. _Why did I even save these?_

Nothing looked good, so she grabbed a vitamin water, layered on a sweater, parka, scarf and gloves, then headed out the door. She speed-dialed her chauffeur from the hall. His apartment was in the same building, but a few floors down. "Sorry I'm late, Happy. I'm on my way down."

"No problem, Boss. I'm already in the garage. I'll get the heat started."

Pepper smiled. He knew her well. "Great. See you there." She hit the disconnect on the phone with one hand and the call button for the elevator with a finger spared from the hand that held the water bottle.

A vaguely familiar voice behind her said, "No you won't."

But before she could turn to identify the speaker or argue with his statement, a folded white cloth appeared from over her shoulder and covered her nose and mouth. She'd seen enough movies to know it was chloroform, but she couldn't control the instinct to gasp and once she did, the sweet smell filled her nostrils and everything went black.


	6. Chapter 6

Somewhere in the haze of sleep, Tony heard the phone indicator chime, but he couldn't quite wake up enough to answer it. JARVIS would take a message.

"Sir, Miss Potts is calling," JARVIS said.

"Uh huh," Tony mumbled incoherently.

"Sir, you asked her number to be put on priority. If you wish to disregard—"

 _You must give the override code_. He had programmed the AI so he would have to be awake and sober enough to refuse on purpose. He glanced at the clock. 3:35 AM. Pepper was always good about remembering the time difference. She wouldn't call if it wasn't important. He propped up on an elbow. "Answer call, JARVIS." He didn't have to use a receiver as there were microphones and computer terminals all over his house to relay calls.

"Boss, it's me," said a voice that was clearly not Pepper.

"Happy, do you have any idea what time it is?" he groaned, letting his head flop back down on the pillow.

"Pepper called me twenty minutes ago to say she was on her way down. I waited in the garage with the engine running. She never arrived. I found her phone next to the elevator on the eighteenth floor. She wouldn't answer her door, so I broke it down to check on her. She wasn't there. I don't like this. Something's wrong. Thought you'd want to know."

Tony bolted upright. "Have you called the police yet?"

"That would be my next call after Iron Man." The smirk was detectable without needing a visual. Happy never quite caught on to using the video call function. He had used voice-only.

"Good thinking, Hap. But hold off on that a couple hours. I can be there in ninety-seven minutes." Tony leapt from the bed and yanked on the dresser pull of his shirt drawer.

"I can't just not call the cops! She's been mugged or something!"

"Do you have any evidence of that? If anyone is around, ask if they heard a scream or saw anything suspicious. Otherwise, it's just a missing persons report and they'll make you wait 24 hours anyway."

"So if I find someone who heard a scream, then I can call the cops?" Happy was not the kind to sit around for 24 hours and wait patiently.

Tony didn't like to wait either, which was why he would be blasting out of here as soon as he got some clothes on and made it down to the Mark 5. The ex-boxer was fiercely loyal to him, as evidenced by the fact he called. But if it ever came down to it, he'd probably choose Pepper over him, which was why Tony approved of Happy being her driver/bodyguard in the first place. However, chances were, it would take a while for Happy to find a witness, if one could be found at all, and then it would take the NYPD a while to send out an investigator. Tony could still beat them. Much as he wanted to be first on the scene, he wasn't going to ask Happy to hold back. "Yeah, go ahead. But don't let anyone else into her apartment. I'm on my way."

"Ninety-seven minutes. I'm holding you to that."

Tony disconnected the call. It wasn't like he planned to stop at Starbucks along the way, but sheesh. It would take at least five and a half hours by jet and there could be storms and headwinds and all kinds of things in his way. He wanted to be there in thirty seconds, but he had to live with what was possible, not what he wanted. But it was no use taking out frustrations on Happy. The guy was worried about Pepper, just as he was. Tony hurriedly threw a shirt over his head and pulled on a pair of pants.

"JARVIS, call Bambi at SI and have Pepper put on sick leave. Cancel all her appointments. We don't need anyone else getting suspicious."

"Yes, sir."

"Then find out what course and altitude will give us the fastest time to New York." Pants zipped, he slipped into a pair of loafers. He would normally wear socks, but he didn't want to take the time right now. He started down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"Coordinating with NOAA and FAA databases now, sir. Your flight plan will be ready when you reach the basement."

He dashed through the kitchen and down another set of stairs, then he keyed in his password on the glass touchpad at the entrance to his personal workshop. The War Machine suit was back in the Mark II bay. He'd finished all the modifications on it last night. He'd put those repairs ahead of the Mark VI, since he had Mark V to use in the meantime. He was a little sorry now that he did. Mark VI was the strongest and most technically advanced suit he had. If Pepper was really in trouble, he would want the best. However, Mark V was built for portability. He wouldn't have his garage in New York, so folding down into a suitcase would be convenient. Not to mention, the lighter weight would probably make it faster in the sky since the thrusters for Mark V and VI were both the same. He was relieved the state of repairs was making the choice easy.

He pulled the suitcase down from its storage pedestal, unlocked it, and set it on the floor. One foot activated the armoring sequence that soon had Tony covered in red and gold metal. The ceiling exit tube opened like an iris.

"How are my flight systems, JARVIS?"

"All systems charged to full capacity, sir. Projected arrival at Park Avenue, New York: 95 minutes, 27 seconds. Would you care to—"

Tony shot out the exit tube and into the sky. "Take off manually? Yes, I would, but engage auto-pilot once we hit altitude." The head's up display gave him two different visuals, one showing the linear course from Malibu to New York, the other showing a graph of the altitude changes to be taken at various points, presumably to avoid bad weather or crashing into a 747. He had way too much on his mind to worry about adhering to a complex flight plan and he didn't have time to waste by deviating.

"Taking flight control now, sir," the AI said.

Tony felt the minute changes signaling the release of manual control, so smooth, it was hardly noticeable. Only his intimate harmony with the suit made him attuned to it. He hadn't been lying to Congress when he testified that the suit was a prosthetic. It was a part of him and he of it. He had programmed JARVIS personally and therefore he trusted it to get him where he needed to be as fast as the suit's capabilities allowed.

For the first time since the jarring phone call, Tony allowed himself to relax. A little. He couldn't just go back to sleep like nothing ever happened. The suit was comfortable enough—temperature controlled and ergonomically designed so the thrusters didn't need some convoluted pose to operate correctly. There was just no way he could get his mind to relax enough to allow actual sleep.

"JARVIS, get me Pepper's phone records and anything she did on Stark Industries' computers."

The HUD listed the phone records immediately. Evidently, JARVIS had taken the liberty of downloading when Happy called.

"Accessing Oracle network now, sir." A retinal beam passed over his eyeball to scan for authorization. He'd never told Pepper he could do this, but after Obadiah Stane's betrayal, she should have known he would have programmed the system so something like that could never happen again. Not that he had even the slightest worry Pepper was doing anything underhanded. No, if anything, Pepper was the one double-checking everyone else. But diligence like that could get her in trouble. Perhaps it already had.

He wished he could convince himself she was just playing hooky from work—purposely ditch the phone to be unreachable so she could enjoy a day at the spa or shopping on Fifth Avenue. Wasn't that what most women did? Pepper wasn't ' _most women_ '. He couldn't perform the mental gymnastics to even imagine her acting like that. She was a workaholic to the point of obsession, and even if she wanted to take a break, she'd never lie to Happy or intentionally leave her phone anywhere but a locked briefcase or inside her apartment. It was conceivable she dropped the phone and didn't notice, but then she still would have turned up at the car. A lost phone would have been infinitely preferable to a lost Pepper.

He finished going through her phone records. Tony recognized 90% as business contacts, and all the rest were calls to carry-out food joints, dry cleaners, and him. Everything was routine. However, he did feel a pang of guilt when he noticed the total amount of time he'd spent talking to her versus just about anyone else but the dry cleaner. Bambi, her secretary, talked to her more than he did and she saw Pepper in person five days a week.

What if he never saw her again? Was he really so busy that he couldn't just listen to her rant about the cold or get on his case for ignoring his own R&D guys? Or heaven forbid, maybe he could tell her how much he loved hearing her voice or seeing her smile, or what an amazing job she was doing as CEO. Then again, maybe he should start small and work up to the big things.

"JARVIS, if we find Pepper and she doesn't resign in writing after this, you will remind me whenever we haven't spoken for more than three consecutive days."

"Shall I count the voicemails you listen to but never answer?"

"No. Only actual conversations lasting more than five minutes."

"Very well, sir. Are you ready for the computer data you requested?"

"Yes. Close phone records and show me what you got."

The computer records were no more helpful than the phone. The Stark Tower project was ahead of schedule and on budget. Judging from the amount of screen time she spent reviewing things, nothing was sneaking in under her scrutiny. Pepper spent 15 minutes or less per day playing solitaire, and that was always at lunch time. She hadn't been on YouTube in at least three months and her Twitter account hadn't been updated since she was promoted to CEO. Tony whispered, "All work and no play, honey?"

JARVIS replied, "Perhaps you would care to see Miss Potts' personal calendar, sir." The AI didn't wait for Tony's reaction, but displayed it simultaneous to the offer. None of her corporate appointments were listed, but he'd already seen the business appointment book, which had been saved on the SI network, so both she and Bambi could make changes to it at any time.

This was different. It was filled in haphazardly with names, most of them unfamiliar. There were no times or meeting places mentioned, just the word 'email' followed by a checkmark. About 5% of the names had 'card' and a checkmark beside them instead. He saw the Potts surname on several of the card variety. The checkmarks ended in the present and all the names in the future had none.

Tony would have assumed this was nothing more than her birthday reminder list except that every weekend she had spent in Malibu had HOME in oversized red capitals that were also double-underlined and bolded. The weekends he had come to New York were marked TONY in the same manner.

He felt his eyes stinging. "How much further, JARVIS?"

"Twenty-three minutes, seventeen seconds."

He couldn't sleep and he couldn't just do nothing. "Get me crime activity reports for Pepper's neighborhood. NYPD, FBI, everything. List by degree, murders first."

"Search radius, sir?"

"Start with five miles."

And so began the brain-numbing stream of information, most of it senseless, all of it making him feel like he should add some kind of bathing function to the next suit upgrade. He let JARVIS run it by like a bad slideshow, taking in only the barest of details so he could eliminate each entry from having any discernible connection. However, it was quickly becoming apparent that plenty of suffering in New York had no reason or logic connected to it at all. All the research in the world would be useless if Pepper was a victim of some drug-crazed junkie or random psychopath.

He extended the radius to seven miles and went through half of the new material before he felt the suit descending. "Call Pepper's phone," he told JARVIS.

Her smiling avatar appeared next to the number on the HUD and Tony resisted the urge to wince. The first ring didn't complete before the call connected. "There were no witnesses," Happy barked defensively. "And where are you?"

"Hello to you too. I'm about a thousand feet above your head. Meet me on the roof."

"Yeah? Okay." Happy hung up.

Tony landed and had the Mark V all folded down into its suitcase and locked up tight before the door opened and Happy glared at him with that _it's-about-time-you-got-here_ look on his face. He was sorry it had taken so long, but he couldn't have made it any faster and he certainly didn't have to apologize to Happy for living in Malibu. Still, he felt kind of sorry for the big guy, standing around, not having anything to do but pace the hall all this time. He handed him the Mark V. "Don't lose that."

Happy nodded, his irritation finally dissolving into what looked like relief. Both of them hurried down the stairs.

Pepper's front door looked nearly normal, except for the broken wood around the knob. Still, Tony wouldn't have wanted to try to break it without having a crow bar or battering ram or a nice repulsor to help. He gripped both sides of the door and lifted it to move so he and Happy could get in. The place wasn't quite as clean as it was when she knew he was coming, but it was ten times better than anything he could ever maintain without the help of three full-time maids. No dirty dishes. No clothes on the floor. No takeout boxes in the living room. He was almost sorry it looked so nice. "No signs of struggle here."

"Nope," Happy affirmed as if this was a point of pride for him. "Like I said, I found the phone by the elevator. Whatever happened, happened out there." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

Tony still wanted to be sure he didn't miss a clue, so he checked her bedroom and then the bathroom. There on the counter was something he didn't expect. A pregnancy test with a positive result. He froze in shock and stared at it. For a split second, he thought, _Whose?_ because _he_ had been careful.

But then he remembered how _his_ was the only name in bold red caps and the fact Pepper didn't have any free time to cheat on him anyway. She was so head over heels for him that she was practically a virgin. She admitted she had been pining away for years, swearing off all men because none could compare to Tony Stark.

This was just so... unexpected. Why hadn't she said anything? He looked down beside the toilet to find a brand new Iron Man waste can—the kind they made for 8-year-old boys to put in their bedroom. It only held a toothpaste box and a thin strip of paper. He reached in and pulled out the paper. It was a drugstore receipt for toothpaste, alka-seltzer, and a pregnancy test. It was less than twelve hours old.

His mind went into backpedal mode. Maybe the test wasn't even hers. Maybe she had a girlfriend sleep over. Maybe...?

"You find something?" Happy called from the living room.

"No," he said immediately, tucking the test and receipt in his pocket. If the cops came in here, he didn't want them finding that and possibly leaking it to the media. He carried the novelty waste bin out with him. "Just checking out the new décor. Classic."

Happy chuckled. "She figured you'd get a kick out of that."

He set the bin down and gave the apartment one last scan. There was nothing in here that would help. He tapped Happy on the shoulder. "Show me where you found the phone."


	7. Chapter 7

The hall outside the elevator was incredibly boring but for one detail. Up in the corner, well-hidden by an elaborate cornice, was the crown jewel: a security camera. Tony waved at it. Just as he turned back, he noticed Happy rolling his eyes. Okay, so it did look narcissistic, but he was thinking he'd be viewing the footage and his wave would provide a reference point. But as touchy as Happy was right now, Tony didn't want to explain himself.

"We should watch that," Happy said, pointing to the camera now himself.

"Good idea. I'll go talk to the manager. Why don't you wait here and if anyone comes by, ask them which apartment they live in. We may need fingerprints." In reality, he just wanted to ramp up the Tony Stark charm on whomever held the security footage and that would be more difficult with "Mr. Sunshine" here tagging along.

Happy nodded. Tony wasn't sure if it was leftover deference from when he was Tony's employee or the realization he wouldn't be helping, but it didn't really matter. Happy would do anything for Pepper.

Tony took the elevator down to the lobby. The desk clerk was male, which was a little unfortunate. Tony did better with women. However, Iron Man was popular with both genders and if Iron Man devotion didn't cut it, there was always dead presidents. He patted his back pocket. _Crap_. He'd left his wallet at home in the rush. No dead presidents. Summoning his most charming smile, he stepped up to the desk.

"Mr. Stark. How can I help you?"

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. It was better when he didn't have to try to convince people he really was Tony Stark, especially when he'd left his driver's license at home. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "I need to speak to someone about security. Can you hook me up?"

The man nodded. "Right away, Mr. Stark."

Being the genius he was, Tony was marginally aware that ordinary schmucks (i.e. anyone who wasn't Tony Stark) didn't get quite the same level of courtesy he did, but he was so used to it, it didn't really register on the wow-o-meter. This guy could be hoping to be hired at Stark Tower when it was ready. And for recognizing him and being helpful and polite, Tony would put in a good word if he asked. He glanced at the nametag and filed away the name, Kyle.

Kyle must have pressed a panic button or something, because he didn't even have to make a call before a guy who was built like Happy came through a door behind him. Kyle turned and addressed him. "Hey, George. Mr. _Stark_ asked to speak with you." Kyle emphasized 'Stark', like he thought George might not know who he was and he didn't want an embarrassing moment.

George didn't look surprised or wowed. He smiled politely at Tony. "Please don't tell me your lovely CEO has a clogged drain we've overlooked."

 _Ah, so he knew the connection_. So much the better. "No, no, nothing like that. Can we go somewhere private?" He didn't want to discuss even a hypothetical mugging where other residents might hear and he was pretty sure George would appreciate that once he started talking. George motioned for him to come back behind the desk and through the door where he'd just emerged.

He led Tony to a small office, swept his hand over the chairs, and waited for Tony to sit first. George took the chair behind the desk.

Tony got right to the point. "Miss Potts called her driver this morning and said she was on her way down, but she never made it. Mr. Hogan found her phone outside the elevator on the eighteenth floor, but she's missing. I was wondering if I could look at your security camera footage."

George frowned. He didn't like the sound of this any more than Tony did. "Have you called the police yet?"

Tony shook his head. "I've got nothing to give them. She's only been missing a few hours. But if there's something on your security tape that can show foul play, then they'll listen." Actually, Tony didn't think the police would help much. They were overworked and underpaid and New York was too full of crime already. He'd hire a private investigator if he needed to, and he'd suit up personally if force was called for.

"Eighteenth floor, right? What time do you need?"

Tony did a quick calculation from 3:35 in California to 6:35 New York time, then back twenty minutes that Happy mentioned and added little leeway on either side for good measure. "6 A.M. to 6:45."

George wrote it down and then rolled his chair toward the computer and started typing. Tony tried to be patient, but it was hard when this guy had to type so much and mouse-click through so many stupid screens just to give the command to do the search. How could people stand this inefficiency? JARVIS would have the recording cued up and be two minutes in already.

However, what the computer lacked in efficiency, George made up for with his practiced eye. He turned the monitor to an angle Tony could see just as Pepper was locking her apartment door.

"That's her. Perfect," Tony commented.

They watched as she made the call to Happy, never stopping in her trek to the elevator. She was on the phone no more than fifteen seconds before moving it away from her ear and touching the disconnect. She reached out for the elevator call button with her other hand. She held a water bottle, but she only needed one finger to hit the button.

Then, from the stairway door, a red-haired male swooped in behind her, covering her mouth and nose with a folded white cloth. Pepper's eyes widened in sheer terror and then she slumped over, unconscious. Every muscle in Tony's body tightened, but he couldn't find his voice. Another man appeared, this one wearing a ski mask, to help carry her limp body out through the stairway door. They picked up the water bottle she had dropped, but they didn't seem to notice her fallen phone. In seconds, she was gone and the hall was empty again.

George did a rewind and slo-mo, which was almost too difficult to watch with that terrified look in Pepper's eyes. He isolated several shots out of the footage and printed them. They were all grainy, the color was terrible, and the unmasked man was mostly obscured by Pepper, but it was certainly evidence of foul play. "I'll call the cops," the security man said solemnly. He reached for the desk phone.

"Can I get a copy of that?" Tony asked quickly, pointing to the monitor. He wanted to leave before he had to hear the crime described again.

George nodded. "Jump or flash?"

"Flash, thanks." JARVIS would be able to analyze it, maybe clean stuff up enough to ID the guy.

George transferred the footage to the tiny square, placed it in a plastic case, and held the case out to Tony.

Tony had a major peeve against being handed things, but he needed this and there was no one else to take it for him. He probably could have asked him to just set it on the desk, but that seemed a bit rude after he'd asked for it and George had been so accommodating. Tony bit back his aversion and opened his palm to accept it. He closed his fingers around the tiny case and stood. "Thanks for this. Oh, and you'll find her front door damaged, but that wasn't any crime. Her driver broke it in the process of looking for her. Stark Industries will pay for the damage."

George quirked a brow. "Thanks, but we'll cover it. I'll get someone on that right away. I don't want her apartment burglarized while she's... uh... out. The cops will want to talk to Hogan. Do you know where he is?"

He chuckled. "Guarding that door he broke. Seems _he_ doesn't want her apartment burglarized either."

George met his eyes. "We'll take care of the door. You find _her_."

"I plan to." Tony left the security office, waved to Kyle as he passed, and headed back to the elevator.

He debated with himself how to break it to Happy, but there was no way to sugar-coat it. Both of them already knew it had to be something of this nature because Pepper wouldn't just disappear. Why did it hurt so much more now he had seen it with his own eyes? He got off on the eighteenth floor and found Happy just where he thought he'd be, guarding her door. The big guy looked up expectantly.

"She was kidnapped."

"I should have been here. I shouldn't have let her get on the elevator alone."

Tony shook his head. "She's not going to let you treat her like a baby any more than I did. There's a doorman here. He's supposed to stop riffraff from coming in, but it's a free country. They could have posed as plumbers or florists—anything, really."

"They?"

"Two of 'em." He held up his fist. "Got them both on camera. One's wearing a ski mask, but we may get lucky on the other. Where's the football?"

Happy stepped aside. "Living room."

"Cops'll be here soon. They'll wanna talk to you."

"I don't know anything."

"They don't know that. Besides, you knew enough. You called me." Tony hurried past him into Pepper's small living room. He unlocked the Mark V and spoke into the case. "JARVIS, give me the flash memory slot."

The hardware had a specific routine for turning into the armored suit, but without getting a foot in the boot to activate that sequence, it could function as simply a repository to house the AI. Parts shifted and the flash drive slot appeared, along with a multitude of other interfaces. Tony slipped the memory card in. "Security video of Pepper's attack happens around 6:15AM. See if you can ID the red-headed guy not wearing a mask."

"Yes, sir. Attempting digital enhancement of the image..."

A holographic projection materialized from the Mark V, giving Tony the same kind of display he would have at home in his garage. He could now see what the AI was accomplishing with each phase of digital wizardry. Eventually, the graininess was cleaned up and the features sharpened, but it was still a complete stranger staring back at him.

"Initiating facial recognition and cross-matching criminal records," JARVIS said. A split screen showed the finished picture with neon green lines connecting the pertinent points on the face and to the right, a screen blitzed through the database, flashing photographs too fast to see, while the AI compared each one to the sample.

Tony watched a few seconds. "How long, J?"

"If the perpetrator has a criminal record, four hours maximum."

"And if not?"

"Accessing driver's licenses and passports worldwide could take up to three days, sir."

"Pepper may not _have_ three days."

JARVIS had no answer for that. He was a very smart computer, but he wasn't God.

"Okay, just keep working," he said, mostly to convince himself this was 'doing something'. What he really wanted was to suit up, swoop in and rescue Pepper, and then bust some heads. He stared at the face of the man who had grabbed the woman he loved, the woman who was carrying his child. Something about the eyes behind those Ozzy Osbourne glasses niggled at his brain, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Why did the other guy wear a ski mask, when all he did was help carry, while this s.o.b. who obviously drugged her into unconsciousness, didn't even wear dark shades or a hat or anything?

"Sir, I have an 87% match," JARVIS reported. The blur of portraits on the right stopped and focused on just one picture.

Tony squinted at the two photographs. "Remove facial recognition aids," he ordered.

The green lines disappeared. The almost-match had straight blonde hair instead of red and wavy, and he wasn't wearing any glasses in the mug shot.

"Add glasses and a wig to match our perp."

JARVIS complied.

"That's him. One hundred percent."

"The match is still 87%, sir. Hair and accessories are not part of the recognition protocol."

"Eighty-seven? Come on. They look exactly the same."

JARVIS zoomed in and redrew the analysis lines, showing the discrepancies. The line between the eyes blinked red, as well as the forehead height and something about the cheek.

"Maybe he went on a diet, you know, lost weight."

"One cannot cause one's eyes to grow further apart by diet, sir. It is a skeletal feature and—"

"Mute." Tony understood how facial recognition worked. He didn't want to argue, but he was ready to swear in court that the two faces from the holographic projection were the same guy whether the software said they were or not. He wanted this guy and he wanted him badly. With JARVIS silenced, he started reading the rap sheet that went with the identity: Sean Brennan, long list of aliases, did time in the New York state pen for grand theft, but had successfully completed parole and was off the radar. Last job was a bike messenger for Amar Deshpande, Esq., attorney-at-law.

Tony memorized the employer's address as well as the last known residence. All the dates were several years ago, so he didn't hold out too much hope they'd be valid, but it was a start. He reached out and swiped his hand over the holographic display to get the next page of information. He studied everything in the file, memorizing as much as he could because he wanted nothing more than to turn this guy into toast. But only after he led him to Pepper. Her safety came first.

A red rectangular box containing the word 'ALERT' started flashing in his peripheral. This was JARVIS's way of begging to be allowed to talk again.

"What is it, J?"

"I expanded the search to recent live feeds. Facial recognition found another match, this one 100%." A third portrait was added to the two already up. This one looked just like the other two.

"What am I looking at then? Twins?"

JARVIS zoomed out on the newest picture and showed the background. It had been taken just outside the minimum security prison in upstate New York, more popularly known as Club Fed. The prison records labeled him Mark O'Dell, and he stood next to a man labeled Amar Deshpande. The footage was time-stamped only two days ago.

Tony had a really bad feeling at the pit of his stomach. _No. It couldn't be_.

Before he could articulate his doubts, JARVIS displayed a fourth photograph, this one showing Deshpande and O'Dell again, headed into the building. "Sir, this one was taken thirty minutes prior. This face is a 100% match to Sean Brennan, but only an 87% match to the kidnap suspect."

Tony drew a deep breath. "A lawyer and his office assistant made a prison visit." _Then someone_ **else** _came out, wearing Sean Brennan's face. And that someone committed Pepper's kidnapping, wearing a mask after all._ "Who did they visit, JARVIS?" Tony closed his eyes and hoped he was wrong.

"Justin Hammer, sir."


	8. Chapter 8

"Flight time, JARVIS. Suit me up."

The interface panel that had the holographic projector slid smoothly away and the opening for his foot appeared. Tony stepped into the boot, shoved his hands inside the gauntlets, and let the armor form around him. It didn't remove all his anxiety, but it energized him and pumped his spirits. He walked toward Happy, clunking and clanking with every step. There wasn't any kind of stealth mode on the ground and he didn't really care.

"Did you find her?" Happy asked.

"Not yet, but I think I know who took her."

"Who?"

If Happy told the cops, they might alert Club Fed before he got there. It was better he didn't know, so he wouldn't have to lie. "Tell ya later."

Happy scowled, but to his credit, he didn't argue. He gave Tony a thumb's up as he passed and called, "Go get 'em," as Iron Man tromped down the hall.

Tony clanked his way up the stairs to the roof. The skies were cloudy and the wind whistled around the rooftops. His HUD displayed the outside temperature as 42 degrees Fahrenheit, but he didn't feel cold. Burning determination aside, the suit was perfectly temperature controlled. He fired his thrusters and shot off into the sky. "Flight time to the prison, J?"

"Eight minutes at maximum thrust, sir."

"Eight? I didn't think it was that far."

"I'm routing you around a blizzard." A live satellite image appeared on the HUD with a diagram of the flight plan JARVIS had programmed.

"I can go through that," Tony insisted.

"Sir, you'd be fighting a headwind that would make the trip longer than going around."

"Fine, let's go over it then." He used manual control to gain altitude until he was above the clouds. It was odd to go from storm to calm in a matter of seconds. It was bright, sunny, and peaceful up here. He wished he could escape the emotional blizzard as easily. Some part of his mind had been chewing on the possibilities since he had been so rudely awakened.

Kidnapping was a new fear. Before Pepper, there had never been anyone he cared about enough to be in danger. He had no family and he'd never spent more than one night with any woman, and the press made sure everyone knew it. He'd taken it slow with Pepper, but he didn't hide like it was something to be ashamed of. Most people probably didn't knew the depth of his feelings, but they'd been seen together in public and there had been gossip.

He was ready to pay anything to ensure Pepper's safe return, but knowing Hammer was involved took the threat to a whole new level. Hammer wasn't just out for money, although he probably felt Tony owed him what his lawyers had soaked him for. No, Justin Hammer wanted revenge, not just revenge _on him_ for defending his own Expo, but on _Pepper_ for interrupting his stupid presentation. Never mind it was Vanko who hijacked all his hardware right under his nose. Never mind it was Agent Romanoff who strong-armed him into spilling his guts.

Pepper had so little to do with Hammer's demise that she hadn't even been called as a witness in his trial. But that sucker-slurping pansy would blame the most vulnerable female he could, just for calling 911 in the middle of a crisis. This kidnapping was undoubtedly designed to hurt Tony, but he couldn't help but worry she was more than just a means to get to _him_. Hammer had escaped from prison to do this. He had nothing to lose and plenty of reasons to kill her. Above all, Tony would not accept that outcome. He hated Hammer with a passion, but he'd let him get away if it meant saving Pepper.

And as troubling as it was to think about Hammer after he'd written him off to oblivion for the next twelve years, he now had to face the fact the mega-wuss wasn't in this alone. He had help. Who would go to such lengths to break his sorry butt out of the slammer? Money bought a lot in this world, as Tony knew well, but Hammer wasn't supposed to have enough money left to his name to pay anyone the kind of cash it should cost to actually _take his place_ in prison. So who was this Sean Brennan/Mark O'Dell character? What did Hammer offer him?

JARVIS nudged the Mark V to descend below the clouds again. Tony fought the urge to allow his emotions to mirror the dark clouds that cast a depressing pall of gloom over everything.

The prison below was surrounded by grass and trees, looking more inviting to Tony than most of the Bronx. From above, he saw the tennis courts and swimming pool that earned the place its nickname of Club Fed. Tall, razor-wired fence shattered any illusion this was any resort.

He used the repulsors in his palms to maneuver his landing so he was outside the fence. He wasn't here to cause a stir. He would leave the suit in a locker and have a chat as Tony Stark. Hammer had pretended they were friendly rivals. Maybe Mark O'Dell would slip up and say something that would help him make sense of all this.

"Suitcase mode, JARVIS."

"Good luck, sir," the AI said in parting as the Mark V reversed the armoring routine.

He carried the red and gold metal case with him and walked in through the visitor's entrance. A male receptionist sat at the desk. Tony was starting to question his luck until he remembered this was a men's prison. He could understand why it might be hard to recruit female office help. He stepped up and put on the charm smile.

Recognition and some wow-factor registered on the desk jockey's face. "You're Tony Stark!"

"Yes, I am." He could see the awkward fan-gushing coming and he didn't want to go there. He rushed on toward business. "I'd like to visit Justin Hammer."

Brows arched in surprise. "Doesn't he, like, hate your guts?"

"Probably. But how many visitors does he get?"

"None besides his lawyer. Have a seat. We'll ask him."

 _Crap_. He didn't really want Brennan to have any choice in the matter. Tony had to admit, if he was locked up, he wouldn't want to see Hammer come rub his nose in it. Someone pretending to be Hammer probably wouldn't want to answer questions either. He started planning his next move, which was to go to the warden and show him the evidence Hammer wasn't even in custody. He could only hope he'd be allowed to question the imposter.

Tony sat, keeping the Mark V between his feet. He noticed there were others in the foyer and he wasn't in the mood to sign autographs or chat right now. He had half a mind to announce his girlfriend had been kidnapped and he was sick with worry, so leave him the hell alone, but worry was new territory and he wasn't comfortable with the vulnerability gnawing at him, certainly not enough to tell strangers. He snatched up the nearest magazine and hid behind it. Ironically, he found himself in the "Special Stark Expo Edition" printed over a year ago.

He skimmed over the articles, marveling at how differently the Expo sounded without him being consumed over palladium poisoning and without the knowledge of its untimely demise. Hope for the future. Innovation and optimism. It was a good idea. Give the world a little time to forget, and he could try it again someday.

"Mr. Hammer agreed to see you, but you can't take that back there," the guard said, indicating the suitcase with a nod.

"Ah, saw me in Monaco, did you?" Tony said conversationally. "Do you have a safe place for me to put it?"

The guard took him into an anteroom where it looked like all the visitors stashed their valuables and restricted items. Tony employed a locker, and took the locker key and the suitcase key with him, shoving both deep in his pocket. He didn't feel as secure as he would have liked, but no one else had enough knowledge of the suit to use it without his voice command, and it would take an awful lot to remove JARVIS's security subroutines. Only the guard knew where he put it and prison guards were fairly incorruptible, he hoped.

The visitation room was being used by two other inmates, but there was room for at least ten to use the room at the same time. Too bad Tony couldn't be alone with him, like he had been with Vanko. At least it was minimum security, so they didn't have to talk through glass.

Tony slipped into a chair behind a spartan table across from a man who was the spitting image of Justin Hammer. He had to force himself not to stare at the copycat, but he was in no mood to play games."How much are they paying you?"

"Huh?" The man certainly had Hammer's idiot look down pat, and his voice was rather good too. No wonder they hadn't caught him yet.

"Hammer. Amar. Whoever paid you to take his place. How much?"

The Hammer clone stared at Tony for a moment, probably longer than the real Hammer was capable of without saying something stupid. He dropped the fake voice and spoke in a low tone, "Not everyone can be bought. I serve a higher cause."

"Nope. Kidnapping innocent women is no high cause. Care to try again?"

The man bored into Tony with his gaze, like it was some epic staring contest.

Tony lifted his hand to his ear. "Can't hear you, O'Dell. Or is it Brennan?"

Nothing. Not even a reaction.

"Well, if you're not going to say anything, we're done." He stood.

The man scoffed.

"Look, the jig is up. If Amar told you he'd get you out, you've been had. Breaking someone out of prison is a felony. Whatever payment you were supposed to get is gonna be useless where you're going." He paused, studying his prey. It was too bad this wasn't the real Hammer. The wuss wouldn't have this kind of steely determination in the face of defeat. However, Tony realized his guy wasn't the enemy. He was the enemy's tool—the pawn, the fall guy. Tony leaned over and spoke in a whisper he hoped sounded compassionate. "Help me find Pepper and I'll help you. I've got connections."

The man smiled. Tony saw Hammer's smirky lips, but Brennan's haughty eyes said 'you can't touch me and I know it.'

Without warning, Tony lunged with both hands splayed and fingers curled, aiming for as much face as he could get his hands on.

A prison guard rushed over, looking like he was about to beat Tony with his night stick or something, but Tony had what he wanted and backed off. He wiggled the torn and deflated Hammer face in front of the guard, both for shock value and to vindicate the "attack" he'd made on the poor, defenseless prisoner. When the guard lowered his stick, Tony threw the mask on the table with a rubbery splat, turned, and walked away. Behind him, he heard the slight scuffle of Brennan's arrest.

He waited until he was behind a closed door to speak again. "Tell the warden I want to be involved when he's moved. Call Stark Industries, extension 1."

He collected the Mark V and went back outside to suit up. "JARVIS, route any Stark Industries calls from this location straight to me."

"Yes, sir. Will we be going to Mr. Deshpande's office next?"

"You read my mind."

"I do try, sir."

"Take me around the blizzard this time." He was feeling too stormy inside to tolerate the sunny view from above. JARVIS displayed the flight plan on the HUD but Tony didn't pay it much attention. Brennan had only been available for questioning because he was locked up. If Deshpande had any brains at all, he would be long gone. "Give me everything you have on Deshpande, J."

"How far back would you like me to look, sir?"

"His cub scout leader. His Kindergarten teacher. The kid who stole his lunch money. Everything."

"Public data displaying now." The HUD showed the results from five internet search engines. "Comprehensive report estimated in one hundred seventy-two minutes."

"I can fly from Malibu to New York in less than two hours, yet it takes almost three for a simple profile?"

"No, sir. A simple profile would require nineteen point four minutes. You asked for 'everything'."

A smile tugged at his lips but refused to form. "That's right. You start on 'everything' and in the meanwhile, feed me what we've already got." The HUD tracked his eye movements and JARVIS was already programmed to turn pages when his eye reached the end and pause if he nodded off. He filled his flight time with the incredibly boring details of Amar Deshpande's law career, his uneventful law school stint, and his (mostly losing) bowling league.

Tony arrived at the Manhattan office space just as he finished up on Amar's days in college fraternity. UCLA pre-law students certainly had a different path than what he'd experienced at MIT, but so far, he'd found no clues to how some relatively mundane lawyer became involved in breaking Justin Hammer out of prison.

The lawyer's office was empty, but the rent was paid for another two months. Tony asked around. No one knew Amar Deshpande by name, but when they were shown his picture, everyone said he was courteous and polite, but not particularly talkative. No one in the building had seen him in weeks.

Frustrated, Tony returned to the apartment building on Park Avenue. The police were there, dusting for fingerprints and questioning residents. They asked him when he arrived and how he found out, obviously checking Happy's statement.

"Have you been contacted with a ransom demand yet?" some FBI agent asked.

"No."

"Are you sure no one else would be contacted—parents, a rich brother, maybe?"

Tony was one hundred percent certain Justin Hammer didn't give a damn whether she had any family he might possibly exploit. But the cops didn't know Hammer was the kidnapper and Tony wasn't going to tell them unless they asked. Pepper once told him she had no one else besides him. She had never talked about family or mentioned visiting them. "She sends birthday cards to some cousins, I think, but she's not close to any of them."

"We'll set up a phone tap."

Tony resisted the urge to laugh. "I think I can handle tracing a call, officer. I'll let you know when the drop is."

"You're not seriously considering giving in to their demands, are you?" The agent looked like he wanted to perform a blood alcohol test right there. Either that, or run his prints. Evidently, he thought Iron Man was too tough to cave to something as petty as some girl held hostage.

"Not considering. Decided. I give them whatever they want."

The agent didn't say it, but the look in his eyes screamed, _Tony Stark is a pushover_.

Well, maybe he was when it came to Pepper. But these bozos didn't even know Hammer had been roaming free for two days and they certainly didn't know Hammer like he did. He didn't care what they thought. He had two goals: Get Pepper safe. Then, and only then, make damned sure Hammer couldn't do this again. Ever.

He didn't need their help and he didn't need their approval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ends the pre-written portion of the story. This is a work in progress. I generally post new chapters every 3-7 days. Encouragement helps and "plz update soon" is not as encouraging as more specific details on WHAT you like about it and how you're reacting to the various elements. Your heartfelt reviews are the only payment I get. Share some love.


	9. Chapter 9

Pepper drifted vaguely toward consciousness. Part of her didn't want to wake up—a large part, in fact. Her muscles felt intensely stiff and achey and she didn't have the strength to move them. Or maybe she had slept on everything wrong and lost circulation in her entire body. Was that possible? Some part of her mind seemed to think it was. Fuzzy logic also suggested it was best to remain in that state of paralysis because moving would be worse. Another part of her brain could not figure out how she could be paralyzed and yet hurt so much.

And what the hell had she done to her body anyway? This was at least ten times worse than the first time she joined the gym and tried to do too much, too fast. She tried to make her mind shut off again and go back to sleep, but something wasn't letting her.

It was cold.

 _God, I hate New York. I want to go home. When do I get to go home again?_ Was she going home next weekend or was Tony coming here? How many more days was it until the weekend anyway?

When she attempted to pull her covers up, her fuzzy brain finally registered something seriously wrong. She couldn't reach out. That spurred her to slightly more lucidity and she realized it wasn't just stiffness stopping her. Another second of trying and alarm closed in. Her hands were bound behind her back. Something sharp was digging into her wrists. Panic pulled her, finally, from slumber, but it was tempered with fear and the accompanying idea she might be better off playing unconscious.

Slowly, in case she was being watched, Pepper tried to open her eyes. At first, she thought she was too groggy to send the right message to her eyelids, but then she realized she was blindfolded. About then, she also felt the tape covering her lips and half of both cheeks. He ankles were bound together, but the binding wasn't cutting like whatever was on her wrists. Maybe it was soft cloth or wide tape? Her heartbeat quickened as she became more aware of her circumstances.

_What happened? Where am I and how did I get here?_

Her memories returned slowly and incomplete, as if they were snowy images playing on an old-fashioned television with a makeshift antenna made of aluminum foil. The shower. The pregnancy test. Looking for something to eat. _Did I ever find anything?_ She had phoned Happy, but she wasn't sure if that had been before she left her apartment or after. Happy said he had the car running and the heater on. She had a vague feeling she made it to the hallway, but she couldn't remember if she locked her door or if she made it to the elevator.

The large hand with the drug-soaked cloth was vivid in her mind, giving her palpitations now just recalling it. Pepper remembered hearing the male voice of her attacker, but not seeing him. She couldn't remember what he said, but something had struck her as even more out-of-place than being assaulted. The words didn't make sense or he spoke in riddles or something. She remembered the abject fear, the utter helplessness, and the impending doom just before everything went black.

Now she was lying on something cold and hard—concrete or possibly metal. It was difficult to be sure in her stiff and bound state, but despite how cold she was, she was pretty sure she still had all her clothes on. It was really only her calves below her skirt and the very tiny bit of exposed cheek between the blindfold and the tape that was in contact with the surface, but that surface was numbingly cold and sucking the heat from her entire body, even through all the layers of her business suit, sweater, and overcoat.

As she analyzed this, she became aware the surface was also vibrating, but not bumpy enough to be a truck or van. The pitch of the vibrations seemed more like an airplane. But where was it going, Antarctica? _Calm down,_ she scolded herself _. It's probably only 40 degrees and not minus 70, like it feels._ If she had been raised in New York, it wouldn't even be cold. _Stupid weather wimp_.

It was the cold, however, that convinced her to stop feigning unconsciousness. She couldn't warm up on her own and she had to risk that whoever kidnapped her would not want her dying of hypothermia, so she started shifting around, moving the coldest body parts away from the floor.

If her attackers had wanted to sexually assault her, they could have done it before now. She wouldn't still have all her clothes if that had been the case. Odds were, this was someone who'd made the connection between her and Tony Stark and they were going to use her to make him pay ransom.

Pepper knew Tony would pay it. People thought he was heartless, but she knew better. No one but she and Rhodey knew about his trip to Gulmira, so people didn't know he'd rescued all those poor villagers, not to save the American military from bad press or whatever stupid story the media put out. Yes, it probably had something to do with the fact the doctor who'd saved his life had called Gulmira home once, but from what Pepper had been able to gather, Yinson and his entire family were dead, and Tony knew it.

No, Tony Stark rescued the helpless and the innocent because he _cared_. He tried to pretend otherwise, tried to portray himself to the masses as part angel of death and part party animal, but it was all an elaborate hoax to hide the truly noble human being he'd become since Afghanistan.

And now Pepper understood why. Because this is what happened when people found out he cared. They exploited him. Yes, she was the one freezing her booty off right now. She was the one bound and aching all over, but it hurt just as much, if not more, to know that someone did all this just to stab _him_ where he was most vulnerable. It pissed her off to the core that all this was all about something as stupid and petty as money. Even as crappy as she felt right now, she wished there was some way she could fight, something she could do to oppose the scum who were doing this.

Grunting with effort, she managed to turn from her side to her back, so her head now rested on her hair, which provided more insulation against the freezing floor than her bare cheek. However, lying on her bound arms became immediately too uncomfortable, so she had to return her body to the side position. She settled on the left side this time, so her right leg might get a chance to thaw out a little. For about the twentieth time, she cursed her choice of wearing a skirt that morning.

She heard and felt footsteps, which confirmed the floor was metal and not concrete. Tension filled her, but she tried to swallow it down. They wouldn't want her dead until _after_ they had Tony's money. She hoped whoever was approaching would be taking off the tape gag, at least. They'd want her to talk to Tony and tell him she was all right. Like hell she would. She would bite the hand that freed her lips and tell Tony she quit. Again. _He_ would know that only meant she was feeling frustrated and fed up, but she wasn't hurt or broken. She hoped that would scare her attackers into worrying that she might not be as valuable a hostage as they thought.

Yes, that was dangerous, but chances were, they were going to kill her anyway and she'd be damned if she let them manipulate Tony just to gain a few days tied up and freezing. If she was going to die, then it may as well be sooner than later.

A door creaked. In the darkness, she imagined an airplane hatch opening, but it could have just been rusty hinges coupled with her previous assumption. She didn't hear any switch, but even through the blindfold, bright light flooded her eyes.

Two steps.

“Well, well, well. How does it feel to have the tables turned, missy?”

 _Justin Hammer_. That was the voice she couldn't place before. He was supposed to be in prison for twelve years. How in the world did he get out? Worse, why hadn't she _known_ about it? As much as the media had played up the trial, surely, news of early parole or a pardon would have been all over the airwaves, wouldn't it?

Realization was both relieving and terrifying. A relief because the man was chronically incompetent at everything but stealing other people's ideas. If he was the mastermind behind this kidnapping, she had nothing to worry about. But it was also terrifying because he was obsessed to the point of obsurdity and he had no moral compass—at all.

He broke that crazy Russian out of a prison in Monaco and didn't care how many people died in the riots that followed. He gave a maniac access to all his weapons development with no thought to what Vanko's obvious bent toward vengeance might cause. Even after the fact, when it was apparent this psychopath was out for blood and destruction on innocent people, Hammer was only concerned about himself and his stupid presentation.

Pepper didn't even try to grunt an answer at him. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

“How does it feel to be all locked up, to be a prisoner?” Hammer taunted. “That's what _you_ did to _me_.”

 _Riiight. All_ my _fault_. It was a wonder his lawyers hadn't tried the 'mentally incompetent to stand trial' defense.

His last step was close; he had to be standing right over her now. “Be a good girl this time, and I might let you live.”

Pepper wished she had asked Natalie—er—Agent Romanoff to show her how to do that tackle move she did on Happy, because Pepper really would have loved to pull it on Hammer right now. Insane and incompetent, but also a class A, condescending creep. Alas, it didn't matter, since she was tied up anyway.

“Listen, we're going to make a little recording for your boyfriend. You tell Anthony to give me what I want and I'll let you go. Don't mess with me, sweetheart. I'm not fooling around anymore.”

 _So that's what the Expo was—fooling around. Were all his DoD contracts 'fooling around' too?_ She could hardly wait for him to take the tape off her mouth so she could spit in his face.

“Are you rolling?” Hammer asked. It sounded like his head was turned in the direction from which he entered.

“Yeah,” some other male voice said.

Hammer's voice got all theatrical and sappy. “Aww, I see you're awake. Here, honey, let me take that nasty tape off your mouth.” He stepped on her hair, effectively preventing any possibility of lunging or even directing her face so she could aim her spittle properly. Still, when the sting of a hundred band-aids spread over her entire lips and jaw area, she spit blindly, hoping to catch his hand or anything she could. She couldn't see if she hit anything, but Hammer said, “Hey!” in that whiney tone of his, right before a loud slap and her cheek erupted in burning that eclipsed the tape-rip. She suspected both pains would have been worse if her face wasn't so numb from cold.

“Listen, you feisty little bitch,” Hammer said in a tone that was clearly meant to rile Tony, “don't give us any trouble, or you may get hurt.”

Yeah, like drugging her, tying her up with zip-ties, freezing her to death, and smacking her around when she was utterly defenseless was not in the category of 'hurt'. If ever there was a scorching glare capable of melting a blindfold, she was directing it now toward where his voice came from.

She opened her mouth to call him a name she'd once heard in a rather sleazy bar where she'd found Tony on one of his binges six years ago. Hammer precluded speech by squeezing her face with his fingers and thumb, hurting her already stinging cheeks and making her pucker. It was an act designed to humiliate her and demonstrate his power. Pepper somehow managed to break free of his wrenching grasp and chomp blindly at the air. To her great satisfaction, her teeth connected with some part of his hand. However, he pulled away quickly and she couldn't cause as much damage as she would have liked.

“Ow! Damn it!”

Pepper braced for the backlash, but it didn't happen. While Hammer was busy ow-ow-owing and swearing under his breath, she blurted out her message to the unseen videographer: “I quit, Mr. Stark. Do you hear me? I'm not your CEO anymore. You're not responsible for me. Don't give this slimy little creep anything!”

Someone kicked her forcefully in the gut. Pain—sharp, deep, and excruciating—radiated through her whole torso. Frankly, had she known he would kick her and not just slap her numbed face again, she wouldn't have said it. She drew her knees up toward her chest and yanked again on her bound wrists and ankles.  She tried to hold back tears, but the dam was busted and there was nothing for it. Whimpering sobs escaped her lips despite all attempts to stifle them.

“Cut it, Mac,” Hammer ordered someone who stood behind him. “We'll just edit that out.” Then his voice got close again. “You think you hurt me, Missy? You think I won't hurt you back because you're a woman? You'd better hope Stark _does_ take responsibility for you, or you're dead. I've got nothing to lose and I am sick of you and your crap.”

Pepper couldn't reply if she wanted to. She couldn't stop her sobbing enough to form words.

Hammer and “Mac” walked away and the freezing room plunged back into darkness just before the metallic slam of the door resounded through her bones, ringing out in its harsh finality.


	10. Chapter 10

Tony hated waiting. No doubt, Hammer was purposely making him wait just to torture him.

Pepper's apartment door was fixed promptly, just as Security George promised. Tony already had a key, so after the police cleared the apartment as not part of the crime scene, he set up a makeshift command center in her living room. JARVIS had instructions to pick up any call from a unregistered phone as well as any openly from Hammer. Hammer would want to rub Tony's nose in this at some point, but he'd worn that mask, so he might try to hide for a while. Tony only hoped the idiot didn't try to use Pepper's phone to contact him, because the cops had confiscated it as "evidence". _Yeah right_. The only fingerprints it had were Pepper's, Happy's, and his. Anyone who saw the security tape would know the kidnappers didn't touch it.

They probably thought there was something in her phone records. If Tony hadn't already downloaded all that information hours ago, he might have protested, but he knew the only thing to be found was the fact _he_ didn't call her as much as he should. That was a minor point of shame for him personally, but if the FBI didn't follow all the gossip rags, they wouldn't realize she was more to him than just the CEO of his company. The phone thing wasn't criminal or even mildly embarrassing, considering the mountain of other dirt the media had made public over the years.

Something in the back of his mind kept telling him he would need the Mark VI, but he couldn't bring himself to go home to Malibu to work on it. Deshpande lived in New York. Hammer had lived in New York even before taking up residence in Club Fed. And Pepper was kidnapped in New York. Hammer no longer owned an airplane. Tony had checked and double-checked to make sure of that. Deshpande didn't have a plane, or the means to buy one. Therefore, the chances were very good they were holding Pepper somewhere close.

If he traced the ransom call and pinpointed Pepper's location in this area, but he was in Malibu when the call occurred, he would never forgive himself if the distance diminished her chances of rescue. Minutes dragged into hours, but every time he got tempted again, it felt like Hammer's call would be "any minute now" and he just didn't dare.

JARVIS had the same functionality from inside the Mark V suitcase as he would have back at the house in Malibu, except he had to limit the size and scope of holographic projections he could display at any one time. Tony found it irritating not to be able to see all the parts of the puzzle simultaneously, especially when he wasn't even sure what pieces belonged to the picture he was working on, but he held his irritation in check. He wasn't going to risk Pepper's life or safety for a better data display. If space was that important, he could go rent the whole darned Waldorf Astoria. He felt closer to Pepper at her place, so her apartment served as his base of operations.

After several frustrating hours studying Deshpande's incredibly boring legal career, he had to get out. Down in the security office again, George shared all the footage he'd gathered from the whole building, but all they saw were a couple more glimpses of Pepper's unconscious body being carried by a guy in a ski mask and Hammer wearing a wig—no vehicle, no other suspects.

Tony hit up Happy next. The big guy needed to be filled in about Hammer and Tony needed a driver to take him to the theater district. New York had terrible parking conditions, so having someone to keep the engine running or circling the block was helpful. Happy took him all up and down Broadway and "off-Broadway" to talk to every make-up artist he could find, flashing pictures of both masks and asking if anyone knew anything. He found at least twelve guys who _could have_ made them, but not a single one seemed to have any motive, much less the time. Regardless, no one had anything helpful to offer.

A few hours after most people had eaten dinner, Tony directed Happy to stop for pizza, which they took back to the apartment high rise.

"Here, you take this," Tony said as they got out in the parking garage. "I'm not hungry."

Happy shook his head. "I can't eat. My stomach's in knots."

"Mine too."

"Why'd you get it then?"

Tony shrugged. "Habit." He grabbed the box. Maybe he'd want some later. He had a feeling this was going to be a very long night. They walked in silence.

"You need anything else?" Happy asked at the elevator. His voice was small, dejected.

"Yeah, I need Justin Hammer's head on a pike."

Happy nodded, uncheered by his lame attempt at levity. "Just get her back."

Tony laid his free hand on Happy's shoulder. "I will."

"I'm going home then. You call me if you get that call. I don't care what time it is."

"If I get a fix on her, I'll be flying out in the Mark V. Nothing you need to do."

"I need to know you found her."

"Fair enough." He thrust the pizza box out. "Sure you don't want any?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Happy pressed the button for the sixteenth floor and then the eighteenth for Tony.

They said nothing on the elevator ride. There was no point telling Happy this wasn't his fault. He was going to think it anyway. Tony wanted to tell him Hammer wouldn't dare hurt Pepper, but he wasn't convinced himself and Happy was one of the few people he didn't like to lie to.

The deflated bodyguard got off at the sixteenth floor and they both merely nodded in farewell.

Tony unlocked Pepper's door, deposited the untouched pizza in her refrigerator, and flung himself on the couch. "JARVIS, you got anything new?"

"Six hundred seventeen megabytes of information on Deshpande and Brennan, all the way back to Kindergarten, as you requested, sir. Where would you like to start?"

"Reverse chronological." He hoped with all his might he'd find a clue before he had to drudge through juvenile delinquency. Tony was about as far from goody-two-shoes as one could get, but at least his discrepancies were fun.

One screen of text after another, he sifted the information and then swiped at the holographic display to "turn the page". It was mind-numbingly boring, but he couldn't just shut it off and do nothing. Yet again, he considered a quick trip to California for the Mark VI. It would only be a little over three hours round trip. Working on his armor would be infinitely more interesting and occupy his hands better, but was that what Pepper really needed from him?

He had the Mark V and it was more than capable of dealing with Hammer or anything he could cobble together, short of bringing Vanko back from the dead to help him. Tony had no idea where Pepper was. She needed him to _find_ her, not to fix his backup suit.

 _Why didn't Hammer just_ _ **CALL**_ _, dammit?_ Why was he playing all coy?He should be on the phone, playing Mr. Swaggering Bigshot: _Ha, ha, I got your girl. I win. Give me twenty million in Kruggerands and I'll give her back._ Tony would pay and then Hammer would dump Pepper and run off to retire in some third world...

Something clicked.

"JARVIS, go back to the list of Deshpande's business associates." His law clients had been pitifully unambitious in nature, but he had dabbled in investments here and there. Nothing had profited nearly as well as Stark Industries stock, but he did well enough that he didn't have to take on big, important law cases. Maybe he was one of those people who never really wanted to be a lawyer, but used a law degree as a stepping stone to politics or some other goal.

The list of names and corporations felt like an old-fashioned phone book. Names with no faces, no notations that would indicate good or bad, just a meaningless list. A few were in red, meaning the person was now deceased, but that was the only real information. But _something_ was here, something his subconscious mind knew intuitively, but wasn't sharing with his conscious.

"What am I missing here, J? Why is this list screaming for my attention?"

"Sir, perhaps it is suggesting you should get some sleep. You have been up for—"

"I know. That's not it. There's something here." Tony stood and started pacing. "Close all other pages and magnify this one," he instructed, pointing at the holographic projection of the name list. "How many names?"

"Fifty-six."

"Do they have anything in common?"

JARVIS paused for a second, which, in computer terms, was like a million calculations. The holographic display morphed into a ridiculously complex graphic with flow-chart-like connections criss-crossing all over it. Most of the lines were dashed, indicating they didn't even have money pass between them, just common suppliers or common customers. Okay, so everyone in the whole business world was connected to everyone else. Wait, maybe that was it.

"JARVIS, cross reference with Stark Industries. Are any of these people connected to Pepper or me?"

The holographic display changed again, not quite as convoluted this time, and not as much data, but all reported "relationships" were innocuous. SI supplied software to the same company as one of Deshpande's investors bought paper from. Nothing shock worthy.

"Sir, I think you should see this."

"What, JARVIS?"

"The database still contains all under-the-table records from Obadiah Stane," the AI reported even as the visual projection changed again, this time showing five names in common between Stane and Deshpande, but those five names all had direct lines—solid, huge cash-changing-hands lines—to one red-lettered name: Raza.

Tony felt all the blood drain from his face. "Get me Colonel Rhodes."

"Sir, it's 1 AM at Edwards, where the colonel is currently stationed."

"He's military. He's not allowed to turn off his phone."

The ring indicator sounded twice. "Rhodes." Tony couldn't detect irritation or any sleepy befuddlement, but he didn't sound 100% awake either.

"Sorry about the time, buddy, but I gotta talk to you."

"Tony?"

"Yeah. Pepper's been kidnapped. Justin Hammer did it. He broke out of prison with the help of some guys connected to Raza."

"That Afghani psychopath who kidnapped _you_? Are you sure?"

"I just saw the connections in Obie's old records. How sure are we that Raza's dead?"

"Why are you asking me? I thought you flew over and saw for yourself."

"I did, but the remains were charred beyond recognition. I thought the army was gonna check the DNA."

A short pause. "There was some resistance with the locals."

"Resistance? The guy's a major terrorist and nobody thought it was important to make sure he was dead?"

"Stane wouldn't have let him live. He was a liability. Witnesses saw Stane use that paralyzer thing of his. Raza didn't stand a chance."

There was no time to debate this and no time for regrets. "Well, dead or alive, it really doesn't matter. It looks like his Ten Rings buddies are still quite active."

"That's not good."

 _No kidding_. Tony didn't say it aloud. It was 1AM and Rhodey wasn't a night owl. "Why do you think they busted Hammer out of prison?"

"They think he can get them weapons."

"Can he?" Tony really hadn't dug into Hammer's post-arrest data beyond making sure he didn't have a house where he could be holding Pepper or a plane to get her very far away. The news said Hammer Industries was liquidated and Hammer was broke, but Tony knew better than to trust the media.

"I don't see how," Rhodey said. "Senator Stern went on a shopping spree when his surplus went up for auction. There's nothing left in Hammer's factories."

"They think he can make it himself, like I did, when I was their prisoner." It took considerable control not to laugh at this notion. About the only thing Hammer was good for was bullets. Anything more sophisticated was bound to be a flop. But now he understood why Hammer didn't just flee the country. He was being pressured just like Tony had been in that cave.

But instead of working against them, like Tony did, Hammer was cooperating. Tony would bet Hammer didn't feel an ounce of guilt over it either. Why would he? Ten Rings gave him the means to get out of jail, get revenge on his most-hated enemy, and get back in the arms business, just selling to a different customer. Hammer had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

"If he makes them stuff like that Ex-Wife Missile of his, he'll be dead in no time," Rhodey said with a chuckle in his voice.

"Yeah, but they didn't take Pepper for nothing. They want my money or my armor."

"Probably both."

"How about you drive out to my house, pick up War Machine and the damaged Mark VI and fly an X-99 or something out here for a little party."

"X-99? What's that?"

"Oh don't play top secret games with me. How long was I in weapons development?"

There was a pause, probably Rhodey deciding how far to argue in order to keep a military secret Tony already knew about. Short of taking a space shuttle out of mothballs, the X-99 was the fastest thing the Air Force had. Tony only guessed that Rhodey was cleared to fly it. He was one of their top pilots. He also wasn't sure they had one parked in a hangar at Edwards, but surely they had something fast he could use.

"Look, Tony, the last time I 'partied' with you in New York, a lot of people got hurt."

"No Ivan Vanko this time. War Machine is ready to go. I fixed her all up for you."

Silence again.

"Come on, sidekick. I need you."

"Let me see what I can do. Don't do anything without me."

"No promises. Get here fast."

Tony felt both better and worse after he hung up. If he'd been worried about Pepper being under Hammer's control, he was doubly worried about Ten Rings being involved. Those guys didn't mess around. The only reason Tony hadn't ended up dead was because he built the armor and because Yinson sacrificed himself so Tony could get away. Pepper would have neither of those advantages.

_Where the hell are they holding her and why haven't they called yet?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marvel's wiki says that Raza "apparently" died in the first Iron Man movie. I think his death was likely. But we know Ten Rings was still active all the way through IM3, so it's no stretch to think there were other members lurking around. I do not plan to use Raza specifically, so whether he is alive or not is still up to Marvel.


	11. Chapter 11

Hammer was pleased with the video he got out of Potts. Of course, he didn't plan on getting his finger bitten, but that gave him plenty of justification to kick the bitch, and that felt quite gratifying. Women got way too many allowances in the corporate world and it felt great to finally be able to remove the kid gloves and treat her like an equal. Once he had the raw footage, it was no problem to just edit out the bad parts.

But he had no intention of calling Mr. Prom King Rock Star so he could whine about not talking to her live. Oh, no. Hammer was in charge this time and he wasn't planning on giving any ground to his metal britches rival. No call meant no trace. Besides, there wasn't a cell tower within miles of here.

He recorded his own message to Stark from his webcam, added the edited video from his little exchange with Potts, and put it all on a mass-produced USB jumpdrive. The jumpdrive was sealed up in a padded Overnight Express flat rate envelope (postage already paid, in cash, a month ago, according to Amar). Hammer addressed it to Anthony Edward Stark, care of Stark Industries' New York executive offices. If he wasn't already in New York, someone would call him. He only put "Hammer Industries" in the return address, not wanting to spoil the surprise too soon. He grinned at his handiwork and peeled the wrapper off a new cherry Tootsie Pop to celebrate.

In addition to that convenient platinum credit card he'd supplied, Amar had hired some muscle dudes, gunmen, and various other mercenaries—gophers, drivers, lookouts, and such. Hammer liked having goons again. He was the brains, but when it came to petty stuff, he had "people" for that. He summoned one of the gopher-goons.

Hammer held the envelope back as he studied the guy. He didn't care about his own fingerprints. Stark was going to know it was him anyway, but he didn't want any of his goons traced. There was no telling where Amar dug them up. "Put some gloves on first—winter or work ones, nothing that'll make you stand out." Normal people didn't walk around with rubber gloves on.

The gopher pulled some driving gloves from a jacket pocket and put them on.

Hammer extended the envelope. "Take it to Queens and find an Express mailbox and drop it in. It's just a jumpdrive, not Anthrax or ammo or anything illegal. No need to hide or act paranoid. You're just mailing an envelope. Be casual."

The guy nodded and took the package. Surely any idiot could do this, couldn't he?

"No big hurry either. Watch the speed limits," Hammer warned to his back.

Another nod from Gopher Goon, who didn't even look back.

Hammer took a few minutes to savor the glorious cherry sweetness in his mouth that matched the sweetness of his mood. He was safe here, in the Villa. He held the trump card and Stark was finally going to be taken down a few pegs. Life was good.

"I ain't gonna deal with that bitch if you let her shit her pants," some muscle dude said as he approached from the direction of Potts' holding cell. "She smells bad enough after pissing herself."

Much as Hammer relished her tied up, helpless, and as uncomfortable as possible, the goon had a point. There was a toilet in the room, but she couldn't use it as she was. Reluctantly, he said, "We got what we needed. Go ahead and untie her."

Muscle Goon mumbled something about opening his big fat mouth and risking rabies.

Hammer pretended he didn't catch it. He was tempted to go watch, but he was slightly nervous Potts would break loose and knee someone in the nuts or something. Sure, Muscle Dude could eventually subdue her, but Hammer had already been bitten once. No need to go risk his nuts too.

Instead, he wandered to the kitchen to see what was for dinner. The cook Amar hired, a guy named Mel, wasn't anywhere near the culinary artist Hammer had once had as his personal chef, but since anything was better than prison food, this hash-slinger wasn't so bad.

"What's on the menu?" Hammer asked.

"Chili and cornbread," Mel stated flatly.

Not Hammer's favorite, but it smelled homemade and fresh, and still zillions of times better than anything he'd eaten at Club Fed.

"Do we have cheese?"

"Just cheddar," the guy said.

Not so long ago, Hammer would have turned his snobby nose up at that. He could eat a hundred dollars worth of fine imported cheeses with his aperitif and not give it a second thought, but this was not that life. "Mmm. Sounds great, Mel," he said sincerely.

He grabbed a bottle of Pepsi from the fridge and twisted off the cap. After removing the lolly from his mouth, he tipped the bottle back and guzzled the sweet nectar of life with total abandon. Carbonation burned a little still, but he was starting to get re-acclimated to all the things he'd missed.

Some of those things still had to wait, but Hammer had a lot more patience now that he was out of the hellhole. Like the ransom demand—a call would have been fifty times faster, but it meant giving up too many advantages. Besides, it had to drive Stark, the King of Impulse, crazy to be kept waiting. The delay represented only a minor inconvenience to Hammer as long as he was comfortable and safe here in the Villa.

He set the Pepsi down and returned the lolly to the corner of his mouth. _Ah, the delicious sugar rush_.

Muscle Goon came out of Potts' holding cell holding what looked like bloody panties. Hammer didn't give a damn if the guy had raped her while she was still tied up. How many times had he had to endure rape over the past months? All of that was _her_ fault. She was just a means to an end now. Since she'd done her part for the ransom recording, she was almost (but not quite) expendable. But unless Muscle Dude retaped her mouth, it could have been a rather dangerous proposition. Hammer couldn't decide if he was envious or not. She was such a bitch and not even that pretty.

"I didn't do this," Muscle Dude said in response to the stare. "She took 'em off herself 'cuz the piss made 'em wet and she was cold. Kinda freaked when she saw the blood though."

"She's just trying to make you feel sorry for her. Women bleed like that every month."

He held a dry corner of the underwear by the smallest bit of thumb and forefinger he could manage. "What do they do with these then?"

"Chuck 'em," Hammer said. What did Potts think this was, her personal Chinese laundry? She had better not complain when she took the nasty little rag off herself.

"Can I give her a blanket? I think she really is cold. Her lips were turning blue and shit."

Hammer waved indifferently. "I don't care."

"How about water?"

It really wouldn't do to have her die of thirst, at least not before Amar's friends had what they wanted. "Yeah, whatever."

"Food?"

She didn't deserve it. She should have to suffer, like he did. "If there's any cornbread left after all of _us_ eat, she can have that. Nothing else." How poetic was it to feed her bread (of a sort) and water? Damn, that was almost as good as his 'they're about to run out of ink' line he'd thought up for the Expo. _He_ was the genius this time and nothing was going to stop him. _He_ was going to win.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Tony was bleary-eyed from studying all the data on Amar's mutual connections with the "probably" deceased Raza. He was exhausted both mentally and physically, but even when he gave himself permission to sleep, he couldn't do it. Why didn't this mountain of information lead him to Pepper? Why was there no ransom demand? If Hammer didn't want anything from him, then why had he kidnapped Pepper at all? That was the question that wouldn't let him sleep. _He_ was Tony Stark. _He_ was Iron Man. He had been absolutely convinced this was all about _him_ but his certitude was wavering. Never before had he wished so hard that he wasn't so damned intelligent. Someone with a lesser mind could overlook disturbing facts and be content with delusions.

His cell rang, sending his heart-rate into the stratosphere. However, the ID said it was NYPD. Tony couldn't think of any reason Hammer would relay a ransom call through the police. Didn't kidnappers usually tell their victims to keep the police out of the loop?

He lifted the phone to his ear. "Stark."

"Mr. Stark, this is Officer Jacobs. We met yesterday. Have you heard anything from Miss Potts or her apparent attackers?"

 _Apparent?_ Somebody grabbed her from behind, knocked her out, and then dragged her unconscious body away. What part of that was ambiguous? He was too tired to argue over poor word choices. "No, but I'm pretty sure that _apparent_ _attacker_ in the security footage was Justin Hammer wearing a mask and wig." News about Hammer not being in Club Fed should have been released by now. Besides, the cops couldn't do any worse than he was doing on finding Pepper, so why not give them a hand?

"The idiot who terrorized the Expo? I thought he got sent up for 12 years."

Tony suppressed a sigh. They _could_ do worse than he was doing. "Someone broke him out. Maybe you can go talk to the guy who took his place." He didn't mention he had already tried that over 20 hours ago. He had sort of been withholding evidence, although he didn't feel too badly about it when they seemed to be incapable of handling a clue when they had one.

"I'll have someone get on that. You let us know if you hear anything."

"Yeah." _Maybe. Eventually_. Like after he'd made the ransom drop and rescued her. He hit the disconnect. If he didn't have a computerized phone system managed by JARVIS, he would have been miffed that the NYPD tied up his line for such trivia.

A knock sounded on Pepper's door.

"Who is it?" Tony called. If it was more cops, he planned to tell them he was stepping into the shower.

"It's me," Happy's voice said.

"It's unlocked."

The door opened and Happy's face appeared. "You really shouldn't do that in New York."

"What?"

"Leave the door unlocked overnight."

 _What idiot would try to break in on Iron Man?_ He produced a weak smile. "Just didn't want you busting the new one."

"Ha, ha." Happy looked like he hadn't slept much either. "Anything?" he asked with a tone of desperation.

Tony decided not to tell him about the Ten Rings connection. It would only worry him more and he didn't need that, especially when it wasn't helping them find Pepper. He threw his hands in the air. "Not a thing."

A sigh and a nod. "Can I get you breakfast or anything?"

Tony's stomach still felt tied in knots, but unfortunately, the arc reactor in his chest didn't power anything biological. "Yeah, espresso—lots of it, and donuts. You know what I like."

"No, I know where to drive and where to park. _Pepper_ knows what you like."

Why did that statement sting so much? Tony opened his mouth to rattle off his preferences, but Happy wasn't Pepper. He didn't have her incredible memory and this kind of thing had never been part of his job. Hell, he didn't even work for Tony anymore. This was a favor. Tony amended his intentions before it became obvious he'd planned otherwise. "Doesn't matter. Get whatever."

"Sorry, that was—"

"No, it's fine. I miss her too."

"You should tell her that."

A flood of emotions prevented his usual snappy comeback.

"When you find her," Happy added in the gap.

"I will."

The big guy turned and left, the door snicking shut behind him.

Another ringtone sounded. Tony didn't let himself get excited before he glanced at the display. Caller ID said it was Pepper's secretary, Bambi. She would still be operating under the assumption Pepper was sick. Tony didn't want to deal with her. "Transfer to voicemail, JARVIS."

The ringtone stopped immediately. Tony stood and stretched, then took a quick trip to the bathroom. Upon re-entry to the living room, JARVIS said, "Sir, you might want to listen to Miss Arbogast's message."

Tony quirked a brow. "You think so? Okay, play it."

A static picture of the woman appeared on holographic display along with all her pertinent personal data, but the message was voice-only. "Mr. Stark? It's Bambi. Sorry to bother you on the weekend. A package arrived here for you. Return address says 'Hammer Industries' but I thought they were out of business. Do you want me to forward it to you in Los Angeles? I'll forward it unless I hear from you by Monday."

"Call her back."

"Connecting to her extension now, sir."

It only rang once. "Virginia Potts' office, how may I help you?"

"Bambi, it's me. Where's that package? I need it."

"I've got it right here."

Blowing up the New York branch of Stark Industries might give Hammer a sick satisfaction. Better be safe. "Leave it on Pepper's desk and evacuate the building. Use drill protocol so the fire department doesn't show up. I'll be there in less than five."

"Why, what is it? Shouldn't I notify Miss Potts first?"

"She's been kidnapped. Hammer busted out of jail. Now, don't panic, but the package could be dangerous, so just do it, all right?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark. Evacuation drill. But there's hardly anyone here. It's Saturday."

Tony didn't waste any more time talking. He hit disconnect. "Armoring sequence, JARVIS."

The holographic display vanished and the suitcase offered the initial boot. Tony slipped his bare foot inside and reached down to grab the gauntlets. The Mark V armor formed around him. He walked as fast as the armor allowed up to the roof. He arrived at the office complex in three minutes, twenty-seven seconds. A handful of SI employees stood out on the lawn and pointed when he swooped to land at the front entrance. He didn't visit the New York office much, especially since the Expo ended, but even when he did, it was in a business suit, not his armor, so Iron Man was still a bit of a novelty for them.

He hurried through the building to Pepper's office and found the padded envelope. He left it on the desk and said, "Scan contents, JARVIS."

The HUD showed radioactive readouts, biotoxic and chemical analysis, infrared scans and finally an x-ray which showed it was a thumb drive.

"All scans appear normal, sir. It appears to be a SanDisk USB drive, Cruzer model. Current sales figures indicate over seventeen million units in use."

 _Dammit._ That bastard was smarter than Tony thought. No call to trace and the thumb drive was mass-produced. He tore open the envelope and removed the drive. "Give me the USB slot."

The armor shrank off his skin, but it didn't completely become a suitcase. Tony slipped the drive into the receptacle. "Copy that and start to analyze. I'm going to wrap up here, then I'll suit back up."

"Yes, sir. Analyzing now." The thumb drive disappeared as the suit morphed into its case form.

Tony was barefoot, but he could move faster without the armor. He stuffed the torn envelope under his sweatshirt, grabbed the suitcase Mark V, and walked out to the lawn, where about 30 SI employees waited impatiently. "All clear," he announced to the group. "Sorry to disrupt everyone's work. See Miss Arbogast to get validated for a three-hour bonus on your next paycheck." He turned to Bambi. "I'll cover it. Make sure you give yourself one too."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark. Was it about Miss Potts? The package, I mean."

"Yep. Pretty sure. Analyzing it now."

She nodded and turned to follow the others back inside.

Tony set the suitcase in front of him on the wet grass. "My feet are cold, J. Open up." In seconds, he was inside his second skin and igniting the thrusters.

"Would you like me to play the message now, sir?" JARVIS asked.

He was aching to hear it, but he wouldn't want to stop in the middle and he didn't have far to go. "How long is it?"

"Hammer speaks for two minutes, thirteen seconds, followed by twenty-two seconds of footage with Miss Potts, and then another eighty-seven seconds of Hammer."

Tony's heart sank a little more. He'd wanted to talk to her so badly. Now he not only wasn't going to get the opportunity, but she was only afforded 22 seconds to speak to him.

Anxious though he was, he wanted to give this his full attention. "Let's wait until we're back in the apartment. New York doesn't need another 9-11." Not that his one-man suit was capable of bringing down a skyscraper or that JARVIS couldn't handle auto-pilot while playing a recording. It was a lame attempt at levity.

"Your wit knows no end, sir."

He smiled despite himself. The very short flight back to Park Avenue seemed to take forever, but he tried to tell himself this was good. There would be clues. He would find her.

Back in Pepper's apartment, he snatched up his socks and set the Mark V down in the living room. JARVIS prudently said nothing as Tony sat, took several deep breaths, and mentally braced himself. "Okay, J, play it."

The video file played on a holographic screen at Tony's eye level. Hammer looked just like the mask he'd seen on Brennan, except that the black eye and bandaged cut looked like they'd had several more days of healing. Tony had never liked the idiot, but now that Hammer was smirking back with that sickly smug grin on his face, Tony felt the hatred swell in his chest like a water balloon about to burst.

"You thought it would be fun to ruin my life, didn't you? You got the whole damned world to blame _me_ for what that crazy Russian did and then you laughed when I took the heat for it. Don't think I don't remember, Anthony. Don't think I didn't suffer every single day I was locked up like an animal—humiliated, abused, and fed slop not even fit for pigs."

The slimball shook a bandaged index finger and it blurred from proximity to the camera. "You had your day in the sun. You were everybody's favorite Golden Boy. Now it's _my_ turn. You're going to listen to me and you're going to do everything I say. Then maybe—just maybe—if you beg me real nice, I'll let that girl friday whore of yours go on living."

Hammer tented his fingers together in a patently fake pose reminiscent of some James Bond villain from the 80s. "Then again, that bitch hurt me real bad and I'm a fugitive, living on the lam. I've got nothing to lose, so if you screw me over again, she ends up at the bottom of the Atlantic, followed shortly by you."

Hammer's lips curled into a semblance of a smile or another smirk; it was hard to tell which. He stared as if his silence meant something profound, like he was daring Tony to look in his eyes and read the sincerity with which he made his threats. Tony had no doubt whatsoever that Hammer was dead serious. He wasn't sure the man would murder Pepper with his own two hands, but he would order some hired thug to do it without the hesitation or remorse.

"I'm going to let you see her—just a short peek to prove she's still alive, for now. If you want to keep her that way, then you'd better do exactly what I tell you at the end."

The scene switched abruptly. The lighting was different and the camera was no longer stationary. It looked like someone recording with a phone. The new room was dark and windowless. Lying helpless on the floor, Pepper was bound with her hands behind her back and her legs together, a blindfold over her eyes and white tape across her mouth. He recognized her by the overcoat she wore and the strawberry blonde hair which spilled both over and under the blindfold. Tony clenched his fists unconsciously. The microphone used for this shot was not as good as the one Hammer had used for his little monologue, but he could pick up most of the sounds.

"Are you rolling?" Hammer's back was turned, but he stood towering over Pepper, accentuating her vulnerability. Tony's fists tightened enough to send his fingernails into his palms.

"Yeah," came the reply from the cameraman.

Hammer leaned over and said something to her with a voice like saccharine, but it wasn't loud and his back was turned, so Tony didn't catch it all. The camera guy repositioned so the next words were clearer.

"Here, honey, let me take that nasty tape off your mouth." Hammer stepped on her hair and yanked the tape off.

Tony couldn't help but wince, squeezing his eyes shut. Pepper didn't cry out. Instead, she tried to spit on him! Tony whooped, but his celebration was cut short when Hammer hauled off and smacked her, sending her reeling on the floor.

Tony's jaw clenched as tight as his fists, he growled through his teeth, "Why you little..."

"Sir," JARVIS's voice interrupted as the picture froze, "I am reading abnormally high blood pressure and heartbeat. Should I pause to give you time to recover?"

"No, JARVIS. Resume."

"Listen, you feisty little bitch," Hammer sneered, looking more at the camera than at Pepper, "don't give us any trouble, or you may get hurt." He then reached out and squeezed her cheeks together hard, distorting her lips in a way that had to hurt. The camera zoomed in on her forced pucker and then the picture cut off.

There were several seconds of electronic snow before the picture returned to the first format, with Hammer seated in front of him, like he was using a webcam. Tony tried to concentrate on what was happening, but all he could think about was that Pepper hadn't been allowed to say anything. Was it possible she was already dead and this was an imposter wearing her coat and another wig?

Hammer's self-important voice intruded on his thoughts. "You will bring the suitcase armor to Central Park North. There's a hot dog stand run by a guy who wears an orange chef hat. Twenty-nine paces east of the hot dog stand, behind a big maple tree, is a wastebasket. Drop the suitcase in the wastebasket and leave the area. The sooner you do this, the sooner we can talk about what happens next."

Hammer looked left and right, and then leaned in with an air of secrecy. His voice lowered to a confidential tone. "Personally, Anthony, I don't want your damned suit anymore. I got to work on the War Machine and frankly, I wasn't impressed. But the people who busted me out of that hellhole asked for this in return. I have to get them off my back before you and I can settle the score. Don't mess with them, Stark. They'll kill your precious Pepper if you try anything, so don't."

The screen went black.

"Would you like my analysis now, sir?" JARVIS asked.

"I think I need that blood pressure break first, J. Give me a couple minutes."


	13. Chapter 13

Tony sat, stunned and disappointed, catching his breath. There was no appointed time he had to make the drop, nor any stated deadline. Presumably, that meant he could do it any time he wanted. However, it was likely he was being watched. He didn't try to hide when he flew over to SI to pick up the thumb drive. They knew when he got the message and if he didn't act soon, there would undoubtedly be consequences. Hammer didn't even promise to give Pepper back if he gave them the Mark V. It sounded like this was just first on the list of things Hammer wanted from him. _Do this and_ **maybe** _I'll let her live. My friends want this first_ **before** _we can move on to settling the score_.

Where the hell was Rhodey? He'd had plenty of time to get here, even without the X-99. If Tony was going to give these crackpots the Mark V, he really needed to have the Mark VI ready. He faced a second of indecision over whether to call his wayward sidekick that instant or wait until he heard what else JARVIS had gleaned from analysis. The scales tipped slightly to give Rhodey the benefit of doubt for the moment.

His voice calm and determined, he ordered, "Lay it on me, JARVIS."

"Sir, there is some footage of Miss Potts that was edited out, but it appears it was not erased in the literal sense. Mr. Hammer's second speech was recorded over it using a program which left vestiges and digital ghosts. I have enhanced the trace to approximately 75% of the original."

"Play it!" Tony didn't even feel the need to chide the AI over the 25% that was lost.

The holographic screen lit up and the picture was back to the zoomed-in shot of Pepper, still blindfolded and helpless on the floor, with Hammer squeezing her cheeks together with one hand. If 100% was a Blu-Ray high-def, then 75% was more like Dad's old 16mm film reels played on a projector. Not perfect, but close enough. Less than one second elapsed before Pepper jerked her face out of Hammer's grip and caught his finger in her teeth.

Hammer yelped in pain and pulled away. Tony thought he saw blood, but it could have been a shadow. Pepper looked frustrated that she didn't get a better bite and Hammer whimpered like a baby. It was no wonder he would edit this out, the big wuss. Tony's lips curled into a grin.

Then, while Hammer was nursing his wound, Pepper spoke in a rush of words, "I quit, Mr. Stark. Do you hear me? I'm not your CEO anymore. You're not responsible for me. Don't give this slimy little creep anything!"

Hammer immediately punished her with a forceful kick to her gut. She doubled up in pain, drawing her knees up to her chest, and writhed on the floor, crying piteously.

All the blood left Tony's face and his insides twisted in knots. He whispered to her holographic projection, "Don't cry, honey." He couldn't stand to hear her cry.

"Cut it, Mac," Hammer barked from outside the frame, and the clip ended.

"Give me another second, J," Tony said softly.

He couldn't take in anything else right now. Pepper's piteous cries played over and over in his mind, overlapped with 'I quit, Mr. Stark' which was so obviously code for 'I love you' that it should have been in the Princess Bride. He reached into his pocket and curled his fingers around the pregnancy test stick, squeezing it tight as if his grip could embrace the unborn child he knew had perished in that horrible moment. He let himself absorb the pain, mourning the child he had only known about for a day.

So why did Hammer cut this out? Was it, as Tony originally thought, personal embarrassment over his wimpy reaction to being bitten? Did he know about the pregnancy? Or was it because he'd hurt Pepper so seriously? Surely that heartless kick proved Hammer's resolve better than the slap or the forced pucker. Why wouldn't he want Tony to see what a badass woman-abuser he was?

Again, he worried Pepper was already dead. If that kick had killed her, it would be good reason to hide it. Yet, much as the thought haunted him, it didn't ring true. He knew his unborn child died in that second. _Knew_ it, not suspected. He _felt_ it in his spirit somehow. But he didn't feel that way about Pepper. The kick had hurt her and he felt great empathy for that hurt, but it didn't feel like a mortal blow. He couldn't write her off. Not yet.

He drew a few deep breaths. "Okay, JARVIS, what else have you got?"

"The padded envelope which held the jump drive had high levels of sodium chloride on the outside surface."

Thank goodness he'd done all those chemical scans before touching it. "Salt, J? Like tears or sweat?"

"The chemical composition is very close to tears, sir, but it also had traces of pollutants comparable with seawater."

Hammer had said something about sending him to the bottom of the Atlantic, which could have been a throwaway remark like 'sleeping with the fishes', but perhaps it was more. "Okay, so maybe whoever mailed it took a ferry or drove close to the beach. There's a lot of beach in New York. What else?"

"I ran echo-analysis algorithms on all the sound caught on the recordings." The Mark V projected a graphic representation of the sound waves by strength and direction, as well as their reflections. The waves disappeared, but each point of reflection remained visible and as time went on, the bounce-points solidified into surfaces. JARVIS sped up the simulation and soon displayed a three-dimensional rendering of the room and its objects, including a fuzzy depiction of Hammer himself, presumably because he had moved while recording. As Tony had guessed, he sat at a laptop computer and the receiver of all the sound was right where a webcam would be mounted.

"There is less data for the room where Miss Potts was held," JARVIS said in an apologetic tone. The AI did not bother to repeat a simulation of how the echo analysis was done, but only showed the final outline. Thankfully, Pepper was obscured because of all her movement. Tony couldn't see anything clearly enough to affect him. Likewise, Hammer and the heretofore unseen phone-cam guy, Mac, moved quite a bit, but as their movement was more linear, their figures were more recognizable, like a blurry time-lapse.

"Show both rooms, JARVIS. Remove furniture and people," Tony instructed.

The blurry figures in Pepper's room and what looked like a mattress in the corner all vanished. In the room where Hammer's laptop had been, the table, chair, and various other stationary objects disappeared.

"Rotate renderings."

The neon blue room outlines slowly rotated, so Tony could see the shapes from all sides, just as he would rotate a design for anything he was inventing. Pepper's room was half-cylindrical, like a can that had been cut in half lengthwise, with the door on the flat side represented by the cut. The walls curved seamlessly into the ceiling, but the floor had been flattened a bit. Hammer's computer room was triple the size, fully cylindrical, with the walls fully curved, flat on the two round ends and a flattened floor that was narrower than the widest point of the walls.

"What does that look like to you?" Tony asked, more to think out loud than to get JARVIS's opinion.

But the AI didn't realize the question was rhetorical and started flashing pictures which had varying degrees of matching elements to the rendered rooms—everything from airplane fuselages to quonset huts to submarines, with the latter showing the best matches.

"Did Hammer Industries ever build submarines for the Navy?" Tony asked.

"No, sir. But the best match is not a military submarine. It is a private model manufactured by U.S. Submarines." The holographic screen reported 99.3% match with their Phoenix 2000 class of luxury sub, listed at 140 million dollars. JARVIS continued without pause, "While their records are not public, Mr. Deshpande's computer files indicate he recently found an invoice from U.S. Submarines showing Ashley Hammer purchased a Phoenix 2000 class submarine from them in 2009. It was dubbed _The Villa_. Current whereabouts unknown."

"Ashley Hammer? A relative?"

"Apparently an older sister to Justin, but a death certificate shows she was deceased before his birth."

_Gotcha_.

"JARVIS, ring up Jim Cameron. Time to call in a favor."

"A Canadian filmmaker with 11 Oscars owes you a favor, sir?"

"Back from that Dances-with-Smurfs flick."

"You funded _Avatar_ and didn't get your name in the credits?" The A.I's incredulous tone played well here. Tony didn't pass up many chances to soak up limelight. And actually, it did seem rather unbelievable. Cameron was one of the few people whose wealth and ego rivaled Tony's. The man once declared himself "king of the world" during the Academy Awards.

"Not funding. He had plenty of cash from Titanic Tearjerker." _Pepper loved—no, she_ loves— _that movie_. He tried to hurry past the thought before a lump formed in his throat. "He needed more computer power for blue aliens than he did to hit a boat with a giant ice cube. I helped him out a little." It really wasn't much. After all, Cameron cut his teeth on Terminator and Aliens. It wasn't like the guy had no experience in CGI. Still, Tony thought he'd made an amiable connection, one he could impose upon to ask a small favor.

"Sir, you realize he donated the _Deepsea Challenger_ to Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute." JARVIS had switched to a more sympathetic tone once he figured out where Tony was going with his reasoning.

But no, Tony didn't realize the man had donated his record-breaking submersible to someone else. Pepper would have said that was just desserts after Tony donated the modern art collection to the Boy Scouts. "No matter. That was just a one-seater anyway. I need something bigger and more maneuverable, but doesn't have to go quite _that_ deep. He'll hook me up." He really hoped whatever he got wasn't that nasty lime green Cameron used. Probably looked fantastic in a National Geographic documentary, but it wasn't really a good look for Iron Man. Too bad he didn't have time to order up his own Phoenix 2000 and paint it red and gold.

In another fifteen minutes, Tony had borrowed a private sub from one of Cameron's friends, complete with someone to pilot it for him. It was moored in a cozy little berth off Newport. From what he was told, this loaner was about a third the size of a Phoenix, but rated just as deep. Moreover, it had state-of-the-art sonar and all the latest underwater gadgets. Even if Hammer's offhand remark could be taken literally, the Atlantic Ocean was pretty damned big and Tony still had no idea _where_ in the Atlantic _The Villa_ might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to any of you who may have noticed all my previous fanfic was SeaQuest. I hope this didn't make you groan too much. However, when I found out that the Justin Hammer of the comics owned a floating island called "Hammer's Villa", I just knew I had to do something nautical with an updated twist. Submarines seemed to fit the bill. U.S. Submarines does indeed build the finest private submarines in the world, with their top-of-the-line being a Phoenix 1000. Google it. It's like an underwater cruise ship. I did embellish the real Phoenix for plot purposes, hence the fictional "2000" model. Also, my apologies to James Cameron, but you know Tony Stark would just /have/ to have a snarky name for Avatar.


	14. Chapter 14

Tony finished talking with Bob Keckle, the submarine owner Cameron introduced him to. The guy was excited to be helping out Iron Man, but he kept his groupie-gushing to a minimum. He refused to let Tony rent his four-man sub and also refused payment for piloting, but insisted on making Tony his guest. He only agreed to let him buy the fuel. Having someone else drive was not a problem for Tony. He had a pilot for his private jet and Happy had been his chauffeur for years. But it felt slightly awkward to be a guest in someone else's vehicle and to have a pilot who would not be his employee. Still, what choice did he have? He was lucky Cameron knew someone close-by with a sub in good order and willing to help him.

Someone knocked. "Food's here," Happy called through the door. He didn't wait to be invited but came right through. He set down a box of donuts on the coffee table in the living room. A large thermos hung from a strap on his shoulder. He pulled it off and held it up. "Here's your espresso. You want a cup, or you gonna guzzle from the jug?"

Tony grinned. "What is that, a gallon?"

"You said 'lots'," Happy reminded him.

"Yes, I did, and you delivered." He reached for the thermos and Happy gave it up. Tony unscrewed the cap and took a swig. It was not unlike cheap booze. You didn't drink it for the taste. This much espresso was sure to keep him hyped for days. He stuffed the thermos down between his leg and the couch cushion and grabbed a donut. It was then he noticed Happy staring at him. "What?"

"You tell me. You're not the same guy I left forty-five minutes ago."

"I got a ransom demand. They want the Mark V." _Please don't ask to see the recording. I can't watch it again and you don't want to see it either_.

Happy kept his eyes on the floor and spoke in a guarded, low tone. "You gonna give it to them?"

"Yep."

"Wait. Just like that?"

"Just like that. Hoping once they have it, I can track them to where they're holding Pepper."

"What if he kills her anyway?"

"Hammer doesn't want the suit. He's using that to pay off his escape accomplices. He's too greedy not to exploit this for everything it's worth. He'll keep her alive." _He had better_.

"When's the drop?"

"Whenever I want. I have to do a few things first." He knew Happy would offer to drive next and while Tony didn't mind his driving (he'd proven more than capable in Monaco) he didn't want Happy to try to come along when he boarded the sub. "I'll need the Rolls." Not for the drop, which was close enough to walk, but for the trip to Newport. He didn't really want to tell Happy about that part.

"I should come with you."

"Iron Man doesn't need a bodyguard. You said it yourself."

"You're giving up the suit. That means you're just Tony Stark."

 _ **Just**_ _Tony Stark?_ Did Happy need a boxing lesson right here? Tony might have obliged, except this was Pepper's apartment and the last thing she needed was to come home to a mess. "I've got more than one suit. Rhodey's bringing me the Mark VI. Besides, even if Tony Stark needed a bodyguard, you're _Pepper's_ employee now."

The big guy rolled his eyes. "I don't think she would object."

Tony laid a hand on Happy's shoulder. "I got this, okay?"

He shrugged, defeated. "Okay, boss."

"Pepper's employee, not mine."

"Whatever."

Tony swiped at the holographic display a couple of times until the echo-location algorithm formula filled the screen in all its convoluted scientific glory. Tony understood the numbers and operations completely, but he stared at them, feigning a calculative state.

Predictably, Happy was even more intimidated with mathematics than he had been by Agent Romanoff. He dropped the keys to the Rolls Royce on the coffee table and grabbed two donuts. "I'll just leave you to your...uh..." he gestured widely at the holo-screen, "...work then."

"Thanks for breakfast, Hap." Tony waved at the retreating chauffeur.

The door clicked shut.

A swipe of his hand cleared the 'scary' number screen away. "JARVIS, call Col. Rhodes."

The call connected on the first ring. "Tony, I'm sorry."

Tony was taken aback, but not unnerved. "You're supposed to let me lecture you about your tardiness first."

"I tried to get there. I swear I did. But I can't just go AWOL, you know. I have superior officers. I had to tell them something."

Tony listened without interrupting. This was bound to be entertaining.

"I tried hemming and hawing around, but it was no good. They weren't buying the 'help out a friend' line or the personal leave requests. So I told them about Raza and they flipped out. Tony, I..." Rhodey swallowed audibly. "They sent me to Afghanistan."

If he didn't need the Mark VI so badly at the moment, Tony would have laughed. " _With_ the armor?"

"War Machine, yeah. Yours is still back in Malibu." At least he had the decency to sound apologetic about it.

"So what's the scoop in Raza's sandbox?"

"Hell if I know. Half our intel is bad."

"And the other half?"

"Ten Rings is alive and kicking, Tony."

"I could have told you that from here. Oh, wait. I _ **did**_ tell you that from here."

"Nothing definitive on Raza himself, but that doesn't mean much. Look how long it took us to find Bin Laden. How's Pepper?"

"I got a ransom demand, well, partial one anyway. They want the suitcase armor first."

"When?"

"Immediately."

"I...I..."

"You're busy. I got it."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, tell your superiors I'm about to hand over an Iron Man suit to terrorists. Maybe then they'll let you come help me."

"What? No, Tony! You can't."

"I can and I will. Hammer has Pepper in a private submarine, but I don't know where. Even the most kickass sonar can't scan the whole Atlantic. If I give them the Mark V, I can track it to her."

"Give me a chance to get there then."

"Gave you a chance, buddy. Not waiting any longer. Have fun in the sandbox." Tony ended the call. _Stupid military_. This was what happened when he tried to play nice. Let Rhodey have the suit to promote goodwill and cooperation—except their idea of cooperation was pretty damned one-sided.

He couldn't spare the three hour round-trip to go get the Mark VI himself. Time was important now, and he might not even need the armor to rescue Pepper anyway. It wasn't like he could bust into a submarine with a repulsor blast. They tended to sink when you did that. And if Pepper didn't have the suitcase armor on when he breached the hull (and he planned to booby-trap the Mark V so bad, no one would ever be able to get it on), she'd drown. _Scratch that plan_.

According to the specs on the U.S. Submarine website, the Phoenix-class could only carry enough fuel, fresh water, and air to last a week. Unless "Ashley Hammer" had done modifications after-factory, _The Villa_ wouldn't have torpedo tubes. So, hopefully, Hammer and his minions would be powerless to stop Tony and Bob from just following them around until they had to surface. _That_ would be the time to strike. And if they were going to surface anyway...

He pulled out his phone and called Happy. He was probably still in the building. He couldn't go far without the car and Tony had the keys.

"Yeah," Happy said on the other end.

"Rhodey got shanghaied by the Air Force. I need you to go get the Mark VI."

"What, me? I can't even get into your basement without Pepper or you there."

Happy had always had access to the cars Tony bought for driving, but since Tony beefed up security on the garage, Happy didn't have access to the area where the collectibles and armor were kept. Not that Tony wouldn't give him the same code he gave Pepper and Rhodey. Happy just never wanted it. Tony suspected it was more of his numbers phobia.

"JARVIS will open up on your voice command, won't you, JARVIS?" Tony took the phone off his ear and held it in the air, pointed at the Mark V console.

JARVIS said, "Yes, sir. Mr. Hogan's voiceprint now authorized to unlock security in Malibu."

He brought the phone back to his ear. "See? Done deal."

"I can't get in that thing and fly." Tony wasn't sure if Happy realized how form-fitting the suit was or if he was afraid of the idea of flying without a plane.

"I know. Take the jet both ways."

"That's gonna take all day." It would be 10-12 hours round trip, more if the weather was nasty.

"You got something else to do?"

"No. I just don't want you all impatient because I can't go as fast as your fancy rocket boots."

"I know how fast the jet is."

"I'll be in a cab in five."

"Thanks, Hap." Tony hung up.

"Okay, JARVIS, time to modify the Mark V with a tracking device and security measures."

"I'm waiting on tenterhooks, sir."

"It can't all be about you, J. You may have to vacate rather than let the bad guys appropriate you for their nefarious plans." It wouldn't be 'death', even by computer standards, for JARVIS to purge himself. The artificial intelligence was still in Tony's home computer system and all the other suits.

"Sir, without computer guidance, the Mark V is no more than—"

"At best, a really large brick, at worst, a prop for a medieval joust." Tony grinned. "That's the idea."

He allowed himself two hours for modifications. He could have done more if he had a couple of days, but unless the Ten Rings guys had someone smarter than Hammer, it would be adequate. _Probably_. He also took twenty minutes to design an app for his smartphone to contain a linked version of JARVIS, so he could stay in contact after the drop. It might also, with an insane amount of luck, give him a way to talk to Pepper. They would have to put the suitcase in the same room with her, which admittedly, wasn't likely.

It was about 2 PM when Tony took the suitcase in hand and walked to Central Park. He found the hot dog stand with the orange-hatted chef easily, and the maple tree with the trashcan. This time of day, there was practically no one around. He would have given Hammer mental props for that, but Hammer hadn't chosen the time of day. Tony did.

He did a full visual sweep of the area, but saw no one else besides the hot dog dude. Whether Mr. Orange Hat was Ten Rings or not was anyone's guess. Deshpande had been a nice, quiet lawyer, taking small-time cases for years without even a blip on the radar. There could be 'sleepers' anywhere.

The trashcan was empty save for what looked like a folded-up pillow in the bottom. It didn't look old or dirty, so he figured Hammer's people must have put it in there to cushion the suitcase. Did these people not see the show in Monaco? Pepper threw the suitcase out of a car window and slid it across the asphalt. But they thought it couldn't take a six-inch drop in a quiet park?

Tony spoke under his breath. "Well, JARVIS, looks like they're coddling you. I'm setting the suit down in the can now. Switch to the phone link."

His hip pocket vibrated the text-received signal in response. Tony had programmed the app so JARVIS could communicate while keeping the phone inconspicuous. They could talk freely, but only if Tony answered a call or initiated one.

He looked down at the hand holding the case, hesitating. Was he doing the right thing? He'd been beyond furious when he discovered Stark tech in Afghanistan, killing Americans and terrorizing innocent Afghani children. How much worse could this be, if they somehow defeated all the security and reverse-engineered the Mark V? Would he be no better than Obadiah Stane, putting dangerous weapons in the hands of terrorists? Tony drew a deep breath and let go.

There was no sound when the suitcase left his hand, thanks to the pillow in the can, no doubt. He straightened, adjusted his sunglasses, and walked away, keeping Orange Hat Guy in his peripheral vision as long as possible. He slipped into the trees and found a vantage point that allowed him to see a little of both the trashcan and the hot dog stand. It was far enough away he had to pull out his binoculars. He didn't want to disrupt the pickup, just observe. It wouldn't hurt to know what some of his enemy, besides Hammer, looked like.

Ten minutes passed and nothing happened. How long would they wait? Surely, the kidnappers couldn't feel good about priceless tech sitting in a public garbage with nothing to stop a passer-by from just casually picking it up and walking off. It wasn't even heavy.

On a whim, Tony pulled out his phone. He cleared the text from JARVIS that only said, "Yes sir," and checked to make sure the tracking device was transmitting.

It was, but something was wrong. Unless the calibration was completely off, the suitcase was no longer in the can. How could that be, when no one had gone near it? He punched in the phone number to reach JARVIS, but he kept his voice low.

"Hey, why didn't you tell me someone picked you up?"

"I thought that was the idea, sir. Is the transmitter not working?"

"I don't know." He looked at his phone screen to watch the blinking light move further away. "I see you're moving, but I don't have a visual."

Then, from behind him, a hand reached around and put a chloroform-soaked cloth over ** _his_** nose and mouth. Three thoughts flashed through his mind at lightning speed: _Sheesh, Tony, how stupid can you get?_ Followed by, _I can handle this, just..._ But whatever he was 'just' going to do was lost when he felt dizzy. His vision narrowed and the final thought raced through: _You're going down. Leave a clue_. And with the last ounce of muscle control he had, Tony dropped his phone into the grass.


	15. Chapter 15

"Tony? Tony, can you hear me?" It was the voice of an angel, calling him to Heaven. No, it was _ **his**_ angel, Pepper. He could only remember that he had to find her. She was in trouble.

Hearing her voice meant she was close. Excitement jumpstarted him to consciousness. "Pepper?" He was annoyed his voice sounded so groggy and he couldn't hold up his head. _What the hell was I drinking anyway?_

"Tony! Thank God. Are you all right?"

 _Am I?_ It took a few seconds to figure out what happened. He'd been drugged in Central Park, just after handing over his super-advanced armor to terrorists. He'd tried to drop his phone, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded and even if he did, his assailant could have picked it up after he was out cold. He was in a half-cylindrical metal room, undoubtedly on _The Villa_ , tied quite tightly to a chair. If he wasn't mistaken, Pepper was right behind him, probably also tied to a chair facing the other way, or she would be hugging him or at least trying to untie him. "Hi, honey. I'm home," he quipped.

Pepper tittered nervously, but with obvious relief. "I thought they took your heart thingy. I thought you were dying."

He looked down at his chest. He was wearing a sweatshirt, which meant he wouldn't see the blue glow even if it was there. However, he knew what it felt like when the electromagnet stopped, and this wasn't it. With every passing second, he was feeling more energetic, not less. "Nope. Still here." _For the moment._ But what would stop them from taking his arc reactor, just as Obie had done? It was worth a lot more than the suit, especially since the Mark V was booby-trapped to hell. And both the suit and the reactor, together? _How could I be so stupid?_

"So what's the plan?"

Rescuing her had definitely been the plan. But his plans had gone haywire and now he was improvising. What were their chances? He hadn't told Happy where the drop was. He wasn't even sure how long he'd been knocked out. For all he knew, Happy could still be in California. Rhodey didn't know where the drop was either, but at least knew about Hammer's submarine. Then again, Rhodey was in Afghanistan. Keckle was the only person who should have been expecting him, but he wouldn't know where to look or who to notify when he didn't show up. The truth was not good, so he decided to go for the laugh. "Ta-da! I'm here to rescue you!"

"I'm serious, Tony."

Crap, she pulled the serious card. Time to change the subject. "Speaking of serious, I've been in your apartment. I saw what you left in the bathroom."

"I..." Her voice broke. "I was going to tell you when I saw you."

He made his voice tender. No more joking. "I know. I also saw how Hammer kicked you. Are you all right?" He should have asked this sooner. Damn, he wanted to hold her so badly right now.

"I think I lost it. There was a lot of bleeding."

He was ready to hear she lost it, but 'a lot of bleeding' alarmed him. "How much 'a lot'?"

"Totally ruined my new Victoria's Secret I wanted to show you," she said, whimpering heavily.

Even tied up and scared to death, she could joke and be sexy at the same time. Why had it taken him so long to see what had been right in front of him all these years? "I'm worried about _you_. Did the bleeding stop? Are _you_ all right?"

"I was better before you got here."

She was right, he shouldn't be here like this. He should have only been here with his armor on and a rescue sub docked and ready to carry her away to safety. For once, the snark didn't come and he was speechless.

"I—I didn't mean it like that," Pepper said, bringing her whimpering under control. "I mean, they only tied me up again because they stuck you in here. They knew I'd untie you if they left me free."

"You have them all intimidated after you bit Hammer's finger."

She sniffled loudly. "He said he was going to cut that out."

"He did. JARVIS restored it. Actually, he just cut out the part where you quit on me again."

"It wasn't in writing," she said in a small voice. Her crying seemed to have mostly stopped. "I didn't want Hammer to know you cared. I didn't want him to think I was good leverage against you."

Tony hadn't thought of it that way. He would have paid money for Bambi or Happy without a second thought, but he probably wouldn't have handed over a suit for anyone else. Evidently, Hammer knew that and used it against him. "But you are. I gave him the Mark V."

"What? How could you?"

"Pep, these are the same goons who kidnapped me in Afghanistan. I couldn't stand it if they hurt you."

"What do you mean? Hammer never went to Afghanistan. He was trying to get your defense contracts while everyone thought you were dead."

"The guys Obie was selling under the table to—the guys who almost killed me—they broke Hammer out of jail. They killed Yinsen. They would kill you too, if I didn't give them what they wanted. Well, sort of."

"Sort of? How do you _sort of_ kill someone?"

"I didn't mean the killing. I mean, I _sort of_ gave them what they wanted. The suitcase is booby-trapped."

"Oh, and they're not going to figure that out?" She had to be over her crying now to make that remark in that biting tone of hers. _This_ was the Pepper he knew and loved.

"Well, yeah, but I didn't expect to be here when they did." He was about to mention that he'd sent Happy to fetch the Mark VI, but it occurred to him that Hammer and his Ten Rings buds could be listening. What else had he said that he shouldn't have? He really was losing his genius status today. "Speaking of—do you know where we are?"

"I thought it was an airplane at first, but we've never landed. Nothing can fly this long without refueling. Is it a train?"

"Actually, the military has refueling planes that can deliver fuel in mid-air, but Hammer doesn't have access to them." How much worse could all this be if Hammer had been a real innovator? Tony shuddered to think. "We're in a submarine in the Atlantic. I hadn't figured out where yet. The Mark V was supposed to lead me to you."

"A submarine?" Something like shock or fear ran through her voice. He didn't recall her being afraid of the water. She'd been on his yacht before and never faltered. His uncharacteristic hesitation spurred her to fill the gap. "Tony, I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"No, I mean I'm sorry for giving you a hard time. It—it never occurred to me you couldn't find me or get to me. You can't take the suit underwater, can you?"

"Limited depth, I can. But I can't go punching holes in a submarine unless I want everyone inside to drown. I'd need to get in through a pressurized divelock or docking hatch, get you in another suit, and _then_ punch a hole. But I couldn't do anything until I found you."

"Well, you found me. Now what?"

Great, so they were _both_ lost. But that was no need to get all grim. "Can't tell you." That much was true, because he had no idea what to do next. "They might be listening," he added. Also true. Being all secretive made it sound like there was a plan, which he fervently hoped would cause Hammer to be worried if he did hear them.

If Pepper realized he was bluffing through implication, she was smart enough not to mention it. She was incredibly sexy when she was smart, which was actually quite often, but he took her for granted far too much. "Oh. Right."

As if on cue, Tony heard the door open, but he couldn't turn his head far enough to see it. "Who is it?" he whispered to Pepper.

"Hammer," she muttered.

Tony rolled his eyes and mentally prepared himself for Mr. Insufferable.

"Well, well, well," Hammer said in his supremely self-satisfied tone, no doubt leading into his gloat-of-the-century.

"Deep subject," Tony retorted.

"Anthony, my friend. My, how the tables have turned."

"Really? Because I don't remember ever kidnapping the mother of _your_ child," Tony heard Pepper gasp at the revelation, but she didn't interrupt and he didn't pause to let Hammer do it either, "and then kicking her hard enough to cause a miscarriage, or tying you up beside her while I made you listen to me gloat. I mean, sure, I gloated in Congress, but you were free to go, and perhaps you should have after I showed that Hammer Industries footage of turning your test pilot into a pretzel. That must have been rather embarrassing for you, but maybe no more embarrassing than—"

"Shut up! I don't have to listen to this. I can put a gag on you, you know." He had crossed the room and now was in Tony's face, smugness oozing from every pore of his pasty grin.

Tony, for his part, wanted to shut his eyes because the jerk was so incredibly annoying, but it might look like fear. That was the last thing he would show this puffed-up piece of Hollywood fakery. "Yeah, that would shut me up and then you win by default, right?"

Hammer smacked his left cheek. It stung, but he'd been hurt worse before.

"So what now, tough guy? You beat me up while I'm all bound and defenseless? That ought to make you feel good. This what you kidnapped me for, so you could feel powerful?"

"Actually, I didn't think they'd get you." His body language and his tone was cocky, condescending. "The suit, yes, but not you. I put the odds of that at about four to one. Lost that bet, but look what I got? The great Anthony Stark."

"I been meaning to ask about that. How did you get the suit anyway?" Tony had a few ideas, but why guess when he could just ask Mr. Self-Important? The more he stroked Hammer's ego, the more he gave away. And maybe, just maybe, Tony could buy them some time.

"What? We fooled the biggest genius of all time? Looks like your crown is slipping."

 _At least my crown is real and not plastic._ Tony barely kept himself from saying it out loud. He knew he made mistakes. At least he was man enough to admit it when he was wrong. "Yeah. It does that. So what was it? False bottom with a chute that let you pick it up from behind the next tree?"

Hammer laughed.

Tony wanted nothing more than to kick his laughing butt into next week, but he forced a neutral expression. Play stupid. Let Hammer feel superior. Sooner or later, he'd make a mistake. Tony just hoped he was still alive to see it.

"That trashcan you put it in? We set it on top of a manhole that connects to an old section of the subway. You threw it right into our hands and we walked away before you even knew we had it."

"Not bad," Tony said sincerely. He had indeed been fooled and it wasn't like they didn't know it already. "So you got the suit. Congratulations. You've just given terrorists a big leg up. Hope you're proud."

"Actually, they're not very happy with the condition it's in." Hammer almost sounded amused with this, like he'd expected it.

Tony smirked. "Stark Industries gives no warranties on stolen merchandise."

"They want me to torture you into telling us how to fix it."

"Take me to it and I'll have it fixed in no time. Free of charge."

"I don't think so."

"Then you're on your own."

"Maybe I'll just give them Miss Potts here."

Tony adopted a threatening tone. "Leave her out of it, Hammer. She doesn't know anything about the suit. She just takes care of the business side of Stark Industries. Well, not even that anymore. She just quit on me, which I blame _you_ for. She's an innocent bystander. Let her go, and you and I can settle our differences."

"How's it feel to not get your way, eh, Anthony? Consider this: there are a lot of men here at my Villa, and _she's_ the only woman. We've been at sea a long time and the men are lonely. I think you'll be a lot more helpful after she's had a few nights of friendly company."

Tony jerked against his ropes and spoke through gritted teeth. "Leave her alone. You hurt her again in any way and I'll kill you."

"Not this time. I've got the upper hand here. Besides, who said anything about hurting?" Hammer stepped toward Pepper.

Tony turned his head. Hammer made sure he was still in Tony's line of sight and stroked Pepper's hair. It was probably a good thing JARVIS wasn't here, or that blood pressure alarm of his would be going off again. Once again, Tony strained against the ropes, cutting into his wrists so hard that blood started to trickle out.

Pepper whipped her head around and chomped down so her teeth made a loud clack. Hammer jumped about a foot.

Tony bit his lips to keep from laughing. It would make Hammer mad and he didn't want Pepper to pay for it.

Hammer pretended nothing happened. "Hey, you know, maybe we won't need any help anyway. We'll bypass all your puerile little traps and then I'll just start over with new software. No big deal. I did it on War Machine. I can do it again. But then consider this: what happens to both of you when you're no longer useful?"

He let his cryptic statement hang in the air. Footsteps retreated and then the hatch banged shut and sealed behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies on my limited knowledge of New York. I have no idea if there is or ever was any subway underneath any part of Central Park, but if National Treasure could locate massive undiscovered catacombs underneath Wall Street, is this any less plausible? This is the Marvel universe that has giant green rage monsters and Norse legends coming to life. An old forgotten subway section under Central Park can't be /that/ far fetched.


	16. Chapter 16

Lt. Col. Rhodes glanced at the chronometer in the HUD of the War Machine armor as he passed from Quebec time to Romeo, the local time for New York. He'd slept over the Med and most of the Atlantic, thankful Tony had given his suit the technology that allowed it. It was a long way from Bagram, and he'd been crazy-busy both before and after his friend's second call.

He didn't tell his superiors Stark had handed over a set of armor to anyone connected to Ten Rings because he didn't want his best friend accused of treason. Tony could probably win any case against him, but that wasn't the point. He wasn't giving away military secrets in order to make a profit, like that scum, Stane, did. Tony was parting with a prosthesis—a part of himself—because someone else's life depended on it. Rhodey had laughed when Tony used that definition in Congress, but now that he'd used the armor himself, he understood just how apt a description that had been.

Furthermore, there was no doubt Tony was in love with Pepper. _Tony_ might not know it yet, but anyone who knew him before, knew what a playboy he'd been, could see he wasn't like that anymore. There was no reason he had to change that aspect of his life just because he became Iron Man or switched his company's focus from weapons to energy. Tony Stark didn't do a damn thing he didn't want to do. He stopped chasing women because he'd found the perfect one for him and no other hot body could hold a candle to that.

Therefore, Rhodey couldn't blame Tony any more than he could blame any other rich guy for ransoming a daughter or a wife. However, most men who paid ransom just kissed it goodbye and prayed the kidnappers would make good on their promises. Tony was _way_ too smart and way too cunning to depend on wishes. Not to mention, he was way too egotistical to let anyone else even _appear_ to be Iron Man. It was Tony's identity, his alter-ego. Giving up his armor was more than payment. It was a tactic.

And because Rhodey could point to Stark's genius reputation, the general had to allow War Machine to tag along in Stark's tactic, whatever it might be. Stark had more reason to hate these Ten Rings guys than anybody and he had resources and, most importantly, _a lead_ , which was more than military intel had. All Rhodey had to do was convince the general they would accomplish more by helping Stark than sending War Machine on more wild goose chases.

So here he was, twenty minutes from New York, well-rested, and ready to kick some major terrorist butt. He had the HUD dial up Tony's cell. It rang three times and went to voicemail. _All right. I deserve that. You asked for my help and I didn't push my superiors hard enough until after I wasted a bunch of time. I get it._ He cut off the connection, waited five minutes, and called again. Voicemail. He hung up again. _Okay, Tony, you've made your point. I'm in the doghouse. At least GPS me and notice I'm here now_. _I'm trying to make it right_.

"Third time's the charm," he whispered to himself. Tony could be juvenile, but he usually came around, mostly so he could gloat about it. When the third attempt also went to voicemail, Rhodey decided to leave a message this time. "Look, Tony, I said I was sorry. I'm flying into New York right now. Are you going to talk to me?" He paused, not sure what else to say.

"Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes voiceprint confirmed. I am afraid Mr. Stark is unable to take your call." It was JARVIS, Tony's disembodied butler-bot thing.

"Is he with you or are you in enemy hands now?"

"Neither statement is true, sir. The Mark V is currently in the possession of those who kidnapped Miss Potts. I have very limited functionality at that location, but I am programmed to monitor what is spoken near the suitcase in order to thwart any attempts to open or operate the armor. Sudden loss of communication and hearsay indicate Mr. Stark was accosted at the ransom drop and is now a prisoner with Miss Potts in a different compartment of Mr. Hammer's submarine. However, those who made such implications are not considered reliable and their statements could have been staged."

"Where was the drop?"

"Central Park. I am relaying coordinates to you." A map with a blinking dot popped up on his HUD.

"I'll check it out. Do you have coordinates for the Mark V?" _And Tony and Pepper_.

"Coordinates were relayed directly to Mr. Stark's mobile tracking application integrated on his phone until the homing device was transported out of range. Coordinates were not broadcast to any other location or kept in my memory banks for security reasons."

"What's the range of the homing device?"

"Within the Earth's atmosphere, the range is unlimited. There is no data available for the vacuum of space or underwater. However, Mr. Stark estimates the underwater range to be no more than 300 feet. The Phoenix 2000 has a published depth capacity of 1200 feet."

"So let me get this straight. If Tony miraculously doesn't have his phone _with_ him, and I can find it, we can get coordinates of wherever the suit went until it dropped below 300 feet."

"Correct, Colonel."

"But who knows how much further they traveled after going that deep."

"The Phoenix-class submarine is incapable of speeds exceeding 20 knots while submerged. Furthermore, that speed would deplete the diesel within six hours."

Rhodey grinned. "So they have to go slow to conserve fuel because there are no gas stations out there and coming into shore makes them vulnerable. Thanks, JARVIS."

"You are welcome, sir. You should also be aware I am still fully functional in Mr. Stark's Malibu residence and in the Mark _VI_ armor, which is currently en route to New York with Mr. Hogan, aboard the Stark Jet."

A pang of guilt hit him. Happy had to fly all the way to California and back to get the suit Tony had asked _him_ to bring. Maybe if Tony had had his suit before the drop, he wouldn't have been taken prisoner. This whole mission would have been a lot less messy with one less hostage and one more rescuer. Bad though he felt, the Air Force officer couldn't change the past. He had to move forward from here.

"Can I reach you through Tony's number again?"

"Yes, Colonel. I can also transfer nearly full capability into the War Machine, if you require."

Of course. JARVIS had been part of the original Mark II. Hammer removed it to put in "upgraded" software that turned out to be an open door for Vanko to hijack it. Tony had put some software back when he did repairs, but Rhodey knew he didn't have the same level of sophistication as Tony's newer suits. War Machine didn't have the ever-present British voice, but he wasn't sure whether Tony did that as a favor or a penalty. "Great. I'll keep that in mind. Rhodes out."

He flew to the target in Central Park. The closer he got, the map became more detailed, just like zooming in on Google Earth. The blinking dot became two marked locations, one of them labeled 'designated drop area' and the other 'last communication with A.E. Stark'. Rhodey landed by a hot dog stand and tromped over to the drop spot.

A trashcan stood in a pile of leaves, but the leaves were all oak, right underneath a maple tree, and there were no oak trees in the vicinity. What kind of idiot didn't use local leaves to attempt camouflage? He grabbed the trashcan and used it as a crude tool to brush away the oak leaves. Upon raising it, however, he found the can's bottom missing. The manhole lid underneath showed signs of recent disturbance. Not hard to figure out what happened to the Mark V.

He did a cursory scan of the area, but, not surprisingly, found nothing. Undeterred, he consulted the map and proceeded to the second blinking light. He had to navigate around some trees, but it was obvious Tony had picked this spot as a vantage point to watch the drop. Either he didn't know about the hollow bottom, or he felt the need to hide while he watched his tracking readout. He was well off the beaten path here, but wild grasses covered the ground, so it didn't look good for getting a footprint or using any kind of conventional tracking.

However, two pieces of metal were immediately detected by his scans and their outlines blinked neon in the HUD display. The first was a pair of compact binoculars—compact, but heavy. These were no cheap opera glasses someone ditched after a bad off-Broadway play. Sure enough, the Stark Industries logo was engraved into the metal.

The other blinking outline was the jackpot: Tony's phone. Well, it looked like a phone, anyway. It had one of those expensive "gorilla" covers that guaranteed the phone against every possible hazard including scratches, water, and impact. Tony, however, was never satisfied to just have the latest tech from Apple. As in everything else, his hardware was at least two steps ahead of anything available to the masses.

Rhodey grinned and picked it up, but he didn't try to operate the touch screen with armor-covered fingers. He decided to confer with Happy as soon as he landed. Maybe he could help him get out of the suit. He took off and headed to the airport.

War Machine tapped into air traffic control's computers to discover the Stark Jet would land in another thirty minutes. Rhodey landed and started walking through the terminal. Curious stares met him along the way, but at least these folks remembered the Expo. War Machine wasn't nearly as popular as Iron Man, but he was more of a hero here than in California. He didn't attempt to pass the security checkpoint as TSA would most likely have a full-blown hissy fit just seeing him coming.

A little boy tapped on his metal shin and offered him a can of root beer. Rhodey removed his helmet to say thanks, placing Tony's phone inside the upturned sphere. He shook the kid's hand as gently as he could before he accepted the can. He'd been flying for hours with nothing to eat or drink the whole time, so it was actually quite welcome. Now if only he could figure out how to open the thing with bulky metal fingers. He stared at the can after the kid retreated. Tony would have some cool way to handle this, but at the moment, Rhodey could think of nothing except ripping the entire top off with his vibranium gloves.

The child's mother stepped forward. "May I?" She reached for the can and popped the tab for him.

He grinned sheepishly. "Thanks."

"No problem." She gave him a sexy smile, waggled her brows once, and winked before dropping a calling card into his helmet. "Call me, Stud Machine." Then she grabbed her son's hand and walked off.

_Who ever said New Yorkers weren't friendly?_

He didn't trust any chair to support him with all the metal and ammo he was wearing, but he found a concrete bench where he could sit and enjoy his root beer. He waved a lot and posed for pictures. He remembered Tony's return from Afghan captivity and how the first thing he wanted was an American cheeseburger. Besides thinking that sounded really good right now, the memory carried an unexpected twinge. The same guys had Tony again. Would they let him live to eat another cheeseburger?

Finally, Happy emerged, pushing what looked like a casket on a gurney. It startled Rhodey for a second, but then he realized it had to be the Mark VI. No wonder Tony invented the suitcase model.

Rhodey stood and walked over to meet Happy. The clanking of his steps made sure he wasn't missed.

The chauffeur looked up from the gurney. "Welcome back from Afghanistan, Colonel."

"Thanks. Did JARVIS tell you what's going on?"

"Yeah. He said you were going to check it out."

Rhodey reached into his helmet and pulled out Tony's phone. "This should have some information on it. I was afraid to touch it with these on though." He turned the phone over to emphasize his armor-covered hand.

Happy looked around the public terminal. "We shouldn't do anything here. It's not secure."

"I don't suppose Tony has a gantry anywhere close-by so I can get out of this?"

"I hear they're building one into the balcony of Stark Tower, but it's not ready. You could always go use the one in Flushing Meadows."

"The Tent of Tomorrow?" He suppressed a shudder. The Expo grounds did not hold good memories after the Vanko incident. "No good place to stash the armor there and no casket for me to carry it around either. I guess I wear it."

"I'm going back to my apartment on Park Avenue. Meet me there and we'll huddle."

 _Huddle?_ Rhodey hadn't heard football jargon in ages. It was so weird to work with Tony's chauffeur and not Tony himself. "Same building as Pepper's in, right?" He'd been there once, as a side trip out of Washington, while Tony was visiting and the three of them did DVDs and pizza at Pepper's place.

"Yep. I'm in 16-D."

"How's the elevator? Will I crash it if I step in wearing this?"

Happy shrugged. "I'm taking this one in it with me. I gotta weigh more than you."

"You need help getting that loaded in the car?" He canted his head at the gurney.

Happy looked insulted. "No, I'm good. It sits up."

Rhodey nodded. "I'm gonna get something to eat and I'll meet you at your apartment." After thinking about cheeseburgers, his stomach had not stopped growling.

Not knowing where in New York to find a good burger, Rhodey settled for the first deli he came upon. After a quick look at the menu on the wall, he intended to order a nice Reuben, but he realized he had no way to get to his wallet. He turned to go.

"We have nothing you like?" the short guy behind the counter asked.

"No, I just remembered I don't have any money with me."

"War Machine credit good here. Please, you eat. Pay later." The eager look on his face suggested he didn't care if he _never_ got paid. He just didn't want the reputation of his deli being rejected by War Machine.

"You got a deal. Give me a Reuben and a big dill pickle."

"Yes. Good. We have most delicious Reuben." The delighted little guy scurried around, fixing him a lunch plate.

Rhodey had never tried to eat while in the armor before, but it was actually easier than opening a soda can. He was careful though. What would Tony say if he found mustard in the repulsor housing?

In another forty-five minutes, he'd eaten and flown over to Happy's apartment, where Happy helped him get out of the armor. It only took a wrench and a couple of screwdrivers, but it was nearly impossible to reach everything by himself. At Edwards or Bagram, he could always recruit a couple of airmen to help him.

In camo fatigues now, he sat in Happy's living room, staring at the two suits he and Happy had propped up side-by-side on the couch. The Mark VI still sported battle scars from its encounter with Whiplash while War Machine looked practically brand new. It was uncanny how human both suits looked. Rhodey had to keep reminding himself Tony wasn't in there.

JARVIS, however, _was_ there, which was good, because doing anything on the miniaturized supercomputer disguised as Tony's phone was proving a little more challenging than Rhodey could handle, even with the use of his unfettered fingers.

Eventually, they had the coordinates where the Mark V had stopped transmitting. Happy paled when he saw the tracking light disappear in the middle of the sea. Evidently, Tony had neglected to mention to him that Hammer had a submarine.

"How am I supposed to get that deep—while carrying an extra suit—even if I can figure out which way they went after this?" Rhodey grumped. He didn't actually direct it to Happy, as it was no more the chauffeur's fault than his. They were both commiserating just to vent frustration.

JARVIS overheard and didn't seem to care they were worried about their friends and blowing off steam. "If I may, Colonel: Mr. Stark has already made arrangements with the owner of another private submarine in Newport, Connecticut. The number should be listed under Bob Keckle."

Leave it to Tony to have all the kinks worked out and pre-plan his own rescue before he even knew he needed it. "Outstanding," Rhodey said. "Let's call him up and then get this show on the road."


	17. Chapter 17

Tony blinked hard. His eyelids were so swollen and so much blood and sweat dripped into his sockets, he could hardly see. He'd lost count of the blows after ten. His face throbbed with pain and still Hammer's brute kept hitting him.

Pepper had begged and pleaded on his behalf, but they knew she didn't have what they wanted, so they ignored her. He was actually fine with that. Better they ignore her than hurt her. At least her back was turned and she could only hear the blows, not see the damage it was causing. Back-to-back, but with enough room between them that someone could walk by, they couldn't even touch fingers.

Tony could withstand the beating, but at some point, when they thought he was 'softened up', they would turn on her in order to get to him. Delaying that moment was his sole motivation for opening his eyes. As long as it looked like he wasn't broken yet, they wouldn't hurt _her_.

"I have to use the toilet!" Pepper screamed. "Go tell Hammer now or it's gonna get rank in here."

The punching machine paused.

_Really? Maybe I should have tried that_.

The tormentor stomped out of the room. _Wow. Reprieve_. He licked the blood on his lips, finding them cut and swollen as well.

"Tony? Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah. Great." He didn't try to pull his voice together and fake it. She'd been here the whole time.

"Liar."

_No kidding_. "Do you really have to go? I mean, you can't pull that potty break thing more than once every six hours or so."

"Yes, I really have to go," she whimpered. It sounded like her nerves were shot. "Tony, just let them have the stupid suit. You can always get it back later."

"No, I can't." _Because the second I give it to them, I'm dead_.

"They're going to kill us both anyway."

"No, they're not." _Well, maybe_. It was one thing to put together a crude suit of armor in a cave while telling idiots he was building something else. But it was damned hard to even _think_ while tied up and getting his face beat to a bloody pulp.

"Well, I think they will." She paused, maybe catching her breath. "I have to know something first."

There was urgency in her voice. He knew time was short, if not before death, at least before they separated them. Separation might not be so bad. She didn't need to hear him getting punched. Didn't she say Hammer let her stay untied when she wasn't with him? Much as he really didn't feel like chatting right now, he might not get another chance. "What?"

"Did you want the baby?"

"Did you?"

"I asked first."

"I'm not really father material."

"You could be, if you wanted."

"Pep, I barely have a handle on _us_."

"You're doing better."

"Better doesn't cut it with a kid. I know. I _was_ that kid once."

"I'm not sure I want to be a mother, either, Tony. I thought I didn't want a baby. But then why do I feel so devastated about losing it?"

"It wasn't Hammer's decision to make. It was yours."

"No. It was _ours_. I'd be willing to try again if you wanted to, only I just don't want it to be an accident. Let's talk about it. I want us both to be sure _before_ I have to do another test."

"Fair enough."

"Accidents happen. It's okay."

He had taken responsibility for birth control, but had it really been an accident? He would have said definitely yes a day ago, but with a good possibility of imminent death, he wasn't so sure he could be that glib right now. "If I wasn't as careful as I should have been, it was subconscious."

"Wow, that's a pretty big admission."

"Pepper, you're the only one I'd ever want to be the mother of my child. You should know that before these guys kill me."

"If you want a child, Tony, then don't die. Live to make another one with me."

"What? Was that a come-on?"

"Maybe."

"We're both tied up and you're talking sex?"

"I'm talking about wanting to live. Do you want to live?"

"Yes."

"Good, then don't give up on me. I need you."

"I'm not giving up, but these guys seriously hate my guts."

"Then let _me_ take some heat for a while."

"No."

"I quit, remember? You can't tell me what to do."

"It wasn't in writing."

"I'm defying you anyway. Stay alive and get the board to fire me."

"God, you're beautiful."

"Flatterer."

The door squeaked open. Tony banished all playfulness and braced for more torture. He couldn't let Pepper succeed at taking the heat for him. He'd made a few allowances to the Mark V security measures to produce partial function, in case he needed to buy time while getting in place for the rescue. Now that he'd gone and trapped himself as well, he was trying to hold out as long as possible before playing those cards. They were only stall tactics, nothing else.

After several footsteps sounded, Pepper spoke. "Untie me and I'll come play company for your lonely men."

"Don't, Pepper," Tony hissed between his teeth. Hammer hadn't been out of jail for more than three or four days. That 'men alone at sea' line had been bullcrap from the get-go.

Hammer came into view and produced a condescending cringe when he saw the face. "I'd hate to be your plastic surgeon, Anthony. Yowzer."

Tony heard the zip-tie from Pepper's wrists snap at being cut. Hammer had brought another thug to do it, but not the same one who had been punching a minute ago. If they weren't trapped in a sardine can in the middle of nowhere, Tony would wish she would knee the thug in the groin and run. But she had already lost a baby just for a little nip on the finger and her chances of escaping retaliation were nil. She needed to be careful, to not give them any excuses to hurt her.

"Hammer," Tony said, trying to pretend the guy wasn't an idiot, "let her have her bathroom break and let her stay untied, but don't hand her over to your henchmen. Please. I'll tell you how to get into the suit."

"Right, so you can get it on. No way."

"Leave me tied to the chair."

"You can probably call it like a lost puppy."

If he lived to upgrade, he'd work on that. However, it wasn't looking like he'd get the chance. "No. I have to touch it. So leave me tied up in here. I'll tell you what to do."

"No he won't," Pepper said forcefully, although it sounded more like she was directing it at Tony than at Hammer. "He's just trying to protect me."

"Shut up, Potts," Tony growled. But he knew a bluff was never going to work now. What had possessed him to tell Hammer she had been carrying his baby? Surely his mouth would one day be his undoing. He just hoped it didn't get anyone else killed too.

While the thug cut the bindings around her ankles, Hammer chuckled darkly. "I think we'd all like some female company. You can come with me, honey."

Tony infused his voice with as much menace as he could muster. "Don't you _honey_ her, Hammer. I mean it. You still need _me_ , not her."

"You look like you've been through a meat grinder, Stark. Pull yourself together and we'll talk after lunch."

_Lunch?!_ He was hanging out with badass terrorists, committing prison breaks, kidnapping, illegal weapons trades, and torture, and all he could think about was _lunch_?

Pepper now stood where he could see her, the muscle-bound thug holding her with his thick meat hooks. Her hair and clothes were mussed, but she didn't look as bad as he'd expected. Her eyes, however, betrayed how horrible _he_ must look. Pity for him would make her do anything and nothing he could say would stop it. She was one stubborn little minx when it came to protecting someone she cared about.

But so was he.

He turned back to Hammer and lowered his tone to deadly serious. Pepper might not even make it out from where she stood, but she didn't need to hear. This was between Hammer and him. "If a single one of your lackeys touches her, you're a dead man." There was no begging or boasting. Tony would use his dying breath to carry out the threat if he had to.

Amusement played across Hammer's smug face. "And if I just feed her and come back to beat you senseless, I get to live?" There was even a hint of _laughter_ in his tone. This was all a game to him.

Hate and rage surged through Tony's veins. Hammer had already earned a death sentence for the kick that caused a miscarriage. Still, Pepper would get over one kick a lot sooner than she'd get over gang-rape. Would his promise even mean anything when the scumbag had no fear? Tony couldn't live with himself if he didn't try. Every fiber of muscle tensed, but he raised his eyes to stare Hammer down. With barely restrained rage, he spat out, "Yes."

Hammer burst out laughing. Pepper made a whimpering noise, struggling against the hold of the man restraining her, but she couldn't break free. He shoved her out the hatchway.

His ex-business rival reined in his laughter enough for a parting shot: "Get a grip on yourself, Stark. Come on. Bring your 'A' game to the table, man."

Tony just glared at him. He wouldn't repeat his threat. It would just sound pathetic and desperate. It was too bad looks couldn't kill, or Justin Hammer would miss lunch.

* * *

Time stood still while Pepper was gone. Tony vacillated between hope that this meant she was getting a decent meal and some circulation back in her hands and feet, and despair that she was being raped and beaten. His face throbbed like a bitch, but there was nothing he could do about it.

He hadn't given up on trying to break free of his bonds, but he had so little energy left that his struggles were on the pitiful side. He could saw his whole hand off with the zip-tie, but then what? He was still trapped in this metal room, and beyond that, he was outnumbered and his foes held the only person on the planet he loved more than life itself. How long could he really hold out before he had to betray his country in order to save her? Would giving in be enough, or was this whole charade doomed to end in death no matter what he did?

Guilt and regret would not leave him alone any more than the pain would. When he finally heard the hatch opening again, he honestly couldn't have said whether it had been 30 minutes or 30 hours since she'd left. He strained to turn his head.

"I'm all right, Tony," she said soothingly. "Really."

"Is Hammer with you?"

"No, just Khamed."

Why in hell was she on a first-name basis with any of these lowlifes? But there was no shoving and struggling this time. Pepper appeared in his sight without any restraints at all. She crouched down and brushed the blood-caked hair from his forehead, her eyes radiating sympathy and her warm fingers gentle on his bruised skin.

"Khamed promised me I could give you one last gift before he ties me up, since we're both going to die." But this time when she said it, it didn't sound as resolved as before. Maybe she knew something new.

"A gift?"

"Mmm hmm," she purred, caressing his jowl and neck. He wasn't sure if she was really trying to set him on fire or if this was an act for Khamed.

"What?"

She laid her hands over his ears, where he wasn't hurt or bleeding yet. They she pulled his face in to hers and laid on one of the wettest, hottest, most gasp-worthy kisses she'd ever planted on him. Tony felt his eyes rolling back in his head. Not that he really had any choice, tied up and his head held firmly in her hands, but he soaked in the pleasure of the kiss like it was his last, which it very well might be. He was still in the throes of passion when he felt one small finger enter his right ear. Neither her lips nor her tongue paused in what they were doing.

At first, he thought she was getting kinky, but then he felt a familiar shape as it nestled into his ear canal. She'd just passed him an electronic earpiece!

Pepper ended the kiss. Her dreamy smile betrayed she'd enjoyed it despite it being a complete ruse. "Was it good for you?" she asked seductively.

"Best ever," he replied.

Khamed grabbed her and pulled her away. He wasn't especially rough, but he did look like he was uncomfortable with what he'd allowed, or perhaps he was just jealous, as well he should have been.

Tony found himself breathing hard, not only recovering from passion, but the excitement of the other gift passed in secret. He would be able to hear everyone's conversations with this. But even better, if they hadn't yet reduced the Mark V to a pile of bolts, he should be able to make contact with JARVIS, right under their flipping noses.

Pepper made no protest as she was re-tied to the chair. Khamed didn't talk to her, but finished his task and hurried out, the metal hatch ringing shut as he exited.

"Tony?" she breathed with a hint of satisfied sigh.

"What, honey?"

"You complete me, too."


	18. Chapter 18

Pepper tried to shake the skin-crawling sensation of needing a really long, hot shower. It was true she wasn't hurt, not physically anyway. But she'd given up more of her dignity than she wanted to admit to herself, much less to Tony.

She hadn't really been afraid when she made the offer to provide "female company". Hammer had said he wasn't out to hurt her when he suggested it. Not that he was trustworthy, just unimaginative and underestimating. The pasty wimp was far too much of a coward to personally try anything without her tied up. And if he really wanted his men to rape her, he probably would have just said so because he treated women like idiots who couldn't figure out subtlety for themselves. Thus, Pepper had been reasonably sure her ploy to give Tony some resting time would not cost her much.

But it did cost her. She had to flirt like a floozy and endure suggestive come-ons and unwelcome touches. She had to act completely out of character  _for her_ , but not unlike how she'd observed Tony's conquests act over the years. She would have nightmares about the way these rough, sweaty, slimeballs touched her and talked to her, but she knew every minute of it she endured was a minute Tony wasn't getting his face bashed in.

The silver lining was they let her use  _their_  bathroom. At first, she hadn't cared where they let her go as long as she didn't have to soil herself. But there, beside the sink, she'd found that ear thingy. No doubt, one of the thugs had taken it out because it was irritating or annoying. He probably intended to put it back in, but maybe he got distracted and forgot it. She felt sure Tony could use this to their advantage, so she palmed it and started thinking about how to get it to him without being seen.

Appropriately buttered-up with batted lashes and flirtatious sweet-talk, the ruffians gave her more to eat than cornbread and water, and while she wasn't really hungry, she felt her body needed it. So between the food, the surprise discovery, and the beating-reprieve she bought for Tony, her loss of dignity, while extensive, was worth it.

Still, she would have given a lot to be able to shower at that very minute. She couldn't see Tony now, but she had seen and felt his reaction to the kiss she'd used as a cover. She hadn't really meant to set him on fire like that, but she'd been playacting a loose woman for several hours and it kind of spilled over. Plus, she was afraid if she didn't make it somewhat ostentatious, Khamed wouldn't be distracted enough to miss her pulling the earplug out of her pocket and planting it in Tony's ear. It worked; Khamed didn't notice.

Tony hadn't responded after she told him he completed her. He was usually fast on comebacks, so if he was being quiet, perhaps it was important. Pepper wasn't sure what the ear thing actually  _did_ , so she kept quiet too, in case it could pick up her voice and transmit it.

"You calculated correctly, JARVIS," Tony said softly. "I trust you locked down this frequency before you attempted communication?"

Pepper heard the AI's British voice very faintly, probably only discernible because she knew the expected response "yes sir" and she'd been straining to hear anything in the silence.

Tony's voice raised to a more normal volume, although he seemed to still be talking to the voice in his ear. "No, no. Miss Potts is the one responsible for enabling communications. I think she's earned a nice fat bonus if she doesn't quit on me again."

Pepper smirked. She couldn't resist throwing his own words back at him. "That would be tantamount to indentured servitude or prostitution, depending on what state we're in."

The fact Tony's comeback was delayed even a microsecond from his normal lightning-speed meant he wondered if she'd been sleeping with the enemy. Well, if she had, it would have been to save their lives, not for some cheap thrills, which  _he_  had done countless times. He'd better not go there or she would  _so_  call him out. "Not in a state. Atlantic Ocean. International waters."

Since he played nice, she would too, and put his mind at ease. "For the record, Mr. Playboy of the Year, no one else got any more than you just did."

"Khamed was jealous. I could tell."

"Damn straight."

He chuckled but restrained it either because his face hurt or he was trying not to let on he'd been amused. "Did you just say that?"

"No. You've got something in your ear. What is that thing, anyway?"

"Just a multi-frequency receiver/transmitter. The goon squad probably used it when they went for the drop-off, to coordinate with each other. Kinda unnecessary on a submarine though. I mean, where can you go, right?"

"Can you get a radio signal out? Send an S.O.S. to the Coast Guard or something?"

"I could, but War Machine might take it as an insult."

"He's here?"

"Yep. JARVIS transmitted the coordinates from the Mark V to my phone, which I left in Central Park for Rhodey to pick up. He flew my new buddy Bob and his mini-sub out here, so they didn't waste fuel. Then they submerged so they could hide out, just out of sonar range." Tony switched to his 'talking on my ear phone' tone. "About time you got here."

 _He must be talking to Rhodey now_.

"No, we're both a bit tied up at the moment."

Pepper coughed. "Maybe it's time  _you_  had to go to the bathroom."

"I could try that," Tony replied, but Pepper couldn't tell if he was talking to her, Rhodey, or JARVIS. Heck, he could be talking to  _himself_ , for all she knew. He was known to do that.

There was a pause during which Pepper heard an indistinct garble of words from the transmitter.

"Shh! Hammer's coming," Tony warned. He quieted and so did his ear.

Tony could tell her a giant squid had swallowed the submarine they were in and she wouldn't argue. The hatch opened and Hammer waltzed in, his swagger so pronounced it was comical. Pepper fought the urge to mock-vomit. She was greatly relieved Rhodey was close, but it wasn't like he could fly in, take out all the bad guys, untie them, and then they all walk home. They were under the freaking ocean, sealed in a pressurized prison.

"Now, see," Hammer intoned smoothly while flashing a patronizing smile at her, "lunch wasn't so bad, was it? You told Anthony nobody hurt you, right?"

"It's over, Hammer," Tony interjected. "You can't win. War Machine is stationed in a four-man sub about a mile off your starboard bow. He's got a full tank of diesel and you've been running, what, four days now? Five? It's only a matter of time before you're out of gas and air. You'll have to surface and then Rhodes will blow this ship apart."

Hammer had moved steadily while Tony was talking. He was now out of Pepper's sight, probably right in Tony's face. "It's a  _boat_ , Stark, not a ship. And if we ever have to surface, I will make sure you and Potts are moved to the bilge so you're the first to drown."

"You'll drown too." Flippant as ever. Pepper had to admire how well he could keep his cool.

"What, you think your friend is going to fire on us when I have hostages?"

"You're the one who lobbied Congress to get my suits into military hands. Guys like your golf buddy, Stern, can barely stand  _me_  having them. What do you think their reaction will be if they find out you're giving one to terrorists?"

 _Dear God, we're all dead. Rhodey won't have a choice. He'll have to blow the whole submarine out of the water to keep the Mark V out of terrorist hands_.

"Terrorists? Come on. Just because these guys don't speak the best English doesn't mean they're terrorists."

Tony let out an exasperated sigh. "They're  _Ten Rings_ , Hammer. Deshpande has direct ties to Raza, the guy in Afghanistan who was dealing with Stane. Who else did you think would risk felony jailbreak charges to get you out of the slammer when they don't even know you?"

"They're not terrorists."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Doesn't change the fact I told Rhodes who you were working for. His orders are to keep my suit out of their hands at all costs. That includes our lives."

Did Tony really know that, or was he blowing smoke? Pepper couldn't imagine a general giving out an order to disregard civilian lives like that. Then again, Tony hadn't exactly been on the top brass's Christmas card lists ever since he dropped his weapons contracts and refused to share everything but the War Machine. The military had that thing they called collateral damage. That's what she and Tony would be. Acceptable losses to achieve a goal.

"How could you possibly know what his orders are or where he is right now?"

Tony hesitated a fraction of a second longer than his norm, but Pepper didn't think anyone as dull as Hammer would have caught it. "I put a tracking device on the Mark V and I talked to Rhodes before you captured me. He told me his orders. We made a plan. I assume he went ahead with it."

"And I say you're bluffing. You didn't expect to get caught. You didn't talk to Rhodes because your plan was to ride in on the white horse all by yourself, rescue the fair damsel, and then call a press conference so your picture gets on the front page."

Crap. That sounded exactly like what Tony would do. Pepper knew he hadn't done it that way this time, but Tony only knew where Rhodey was right now because of their recent communication and he couldn't say that, or he'd lose his handy ear phone.

A couple of seconds ticked away. Tony had to be thinking hard.

"You've got active sonar, right? Ping him."

 _Didn't you say Rhodey was staying_ out _of sonar range?_  Oh wait. JARVIS would relay this whole conversation and Rhodey would move the little sub to back up Tony's story.

Hammer laughed. "What do I look like, Sean Connery?" He did a bad impression of the actor's Russian accent from  _Hunt for Red October_. "One ping only, please."

"Ping as many times as you want," Tony countered. "I'm telling you, you're trapped and it's over. Let us go or we'll all end up at the bottom of the sea."

Hammer's smugness returned with gusto. "I like the bottom of the sea. I plan to stay here quite a while. You need to quit scheming and start telling me how to open that damned suitcase before my friends come in here and start shooting people, starting with your girlfriend."

"You brought  _guns_  on a submarine? Are you out of your mind? One ricochet and the whole thing explodes!"

 _Really, Tony?_  Pepper had seen several windows on the upper deck where they'd taken her to eat, but there were none down here. She would be worried about acrylic, but thick metal walls? Why would a ricochet make them explode? She managed not to let Hammer see or hear any evidence of her doubt. It didn't matter what she thought and she would definitely go along with anything Tony said, whether she understood it or not.

Hammer's fingers made soft contact with some part of Tony's body, like he was poking him in the chest to emphasize his points. "It's only a problem if the bullets don't hit their target. You want to be a target, keep up your hard ass routine."

"Okay, okay, you win."

_What?_

"Say the password, 'Larry, Moe, and Curly,' and you can get into the suit." Tony spoke like it pained him. Pepper wasn't sure if it was a bluff or not.

"Just like that? How do I know this isn't a trap?"

"I'm not going to make it blow up when that would kill the two of us along with you. I still contend it doesn't matter because there's nowhere you can go now, but if you don't believe me, I'm not going to protect the suit because you're an idiot. Do whatever you want. I warned you."

"I'll be back if you're lying and Potts will pay this time. You still going to stick to that story?"

"Larry, Moe, and Curly. That will get you in. I swear on Pepper's life."

"Finally wising up, eh? You might just live through this." Hammer strode off, touching Pepper's cheek as he passed. She wasn't in the mood to try to bite him again. The hatch slammed shut.

"You swear on  _my_  life?"

"Nothing more sacred to me. I wasn't lying. It  _will_  get him in. It just won't do anything else." His voice was patient with her, but he changed back to his authority tone when he raised his voice. "JARVIS, don't have too much fun without me."


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could easily see this chapter end up on the "cutting room floor" if it was filmed. Then they'd take it and put it in the gag reel. I admit it may be superfluous, but as I have no other way to present the deleted scenes, I present it here, where it should go in the story. Feel free to skip it if you're not one to care about the "bonus material."

Hammer hurried to the compartment where the tech heads were working on the suit. The old saying said one could attract more flies with honey than with vinegar. He'd tried the vinegar, and while looking at Stark's bruised-up face was incredibly satisfying, it didn't catch the flies. Once he got rid of all of Amar's people, Hammer could take his time and do what he wanted. But he had to placate his benefactors first.

He knew from the beginning they weren't quite upstanding Americans. But  _terrorists_? That was just Stark trying to play his 'moral high ground' card.

Amar was looking for weapons to fuel a revolution. So what? George Washington led a huge revolution with an illegal army funded by foreigners and nobody looked down on  _him_. He was a bona fide hero of epic proportions! He was bigger than Tony Stark would ever be. Why couldn't Amar go back to whatever backwards country he came from and fight for his pet cause, too? Insurgents and rebels killed each other every day and no one really cared, least of all, people who sold weapons.

However, it was their tendency to take killing rather casually that spurred Hammer to set aside his own agenda until he could fulfill his obligation. Above all, he wanted Amar's goons to take their prize and leave.

Consequently, he had decided to set aside the vinegar and try honey for catching flies. He didn't really believe Potts had suffered a miscarriage from that kick (and if she did, it was her own damned fault for provoking it), but she  _was_  a woman, and as such, more fragile than a man. It was no big deal to untie her for a bit. Removing her from the room with Stark had been a stroke of genius, which Hammer only realized after the fact. Stark had let his imagination run completely wild in her absence, probably imagining she'd been beat-up, raped, maimed, and/or killed. Roughing up Stark himself had just made him stubborn, but letting him think they might hurt  _her_  had completely eroded his resolve and now he'd given up the password to the armor.

Hammer burst through the door and found three assault rifles pointed at him. He was still trying to come up with a humorous way to deflect their blunder when they realized he was alone and lowered their weapons. "Larry, Moe, and Curly," he announced loudly.

The goons all looked at him like he was insane.

The suitcase, however, made mechanical whirring noises and started to morph right before their eyes. Two of the goons jumped back in alarm. Just like in Monaco, the suit presented the front of a metal boot.

"See? I told you I'd get you in. Call your helicopter to come and get you." If there was a four-man sub out there, they could easily hit it from the air. Practically anyone could buy a Russian APR-3E aerial anti-sub torpedo. War Machine, if indeed he was even here, would be neutralized long before he made it to the surface. But most likely, Stark made up the entire cockamamie story, just trying to scare him.

One of the goons tried to insert his foot in the armor boot. A robotic voice that sounded like HAL 9000 from  _2001: A Space Odyssey_  issued out of the suit: "What are you doing, Dave?"

"I am no called Dave," the techie said in heavily accented English.

"What are you doing, Dave?" the robot voice asked again.

The guy looked up at Hammer as if he would know what to do next.

Hammer waved a 'keep going' gesture.

The goon frowned and then spoke to the boot in a stilted and overly-loud fashion. "I am putting on armor. Make suit for me."

"I'm sorry, Dave, but this does not seem to be your foot. Did your foot shrink, Dave?"

"Why this thing call me Dave?" the guy muttered under his breath.

Hammer cleared his throat and spoke with exaggerated authority. "It's probably programmed only to respond to 'Dave'. You should go along with it." That had to be a joke of Stark's. Too bad the whole ruse was wasted on these uncultured grunts.

"My foot no shrink. Make armor, stupid machine."

"I am foolproof and incapable of error, Dave. This is not your foot. Please insert the correct foot for armoring sequence."

One of the other techies said something in another language. Hammer had never asked whether it was Arabic, Hindi, or Pashto. Hell, it could be Ancient Egyptian for all he knew. But evidently they decided to try another foot in the boot because the first guy removed his and the second guy slipped his foot in.

"What are you doing now, Dave?"

"Right foot. Make armor," the first guy ordered forcefully. Evidently, the second goon couldn't speak English.

"I'm sorry, Dave, but this is not your normal foot either. Have you been in an accident?"

"Yes, an accident. New foot. Make armor now."

"But which of you is the real Dave?"

Goon 1 pulled Goon 2 out of the boot. "I am real Dave." He shoved Goon 2 away and thrust his own foot back in the boot. "Old foot injured. This is new foot. Make armor."

Hammer fully expected to have to go get Stark's shoe before anything would work, but he was wrong. Metal scales formed up Goon 1's leg and down the other one, then up his trunk to the armpits where it abruptly stopped.

"Why you stop, dumb machine?"

A red electronic eye rose on a telescoping stem, like a retractable antenna, from where the armor stopped up to the tech's eye level. Why Tony would ever build something so creepy into his armor was beyond Hammer's comprehension. There hadn't been anything like this in the War Machine.

"I'm sorry, Dave, but you do not seem yourself today. Perhaps you would feel batter after a nap."

"Nap? What is this nap?"

"A period of rest, Dave. You knew this word yesterday, which confirms you are not yourself today. Did you injure your head in the accident?"

"No, you stupid junk. Make armor. Now." Goon 1 made a fist and banged on the red metal covering his side.

"No need to get testy, Dave. May I suggest leaving off the helmet, since your head is injured?"

"No. Full armor. Helmet and everything. Now."

"All right, Dave. As you wish."

In seconds, the eye retracted and the entire suit of armor formed up over the goon. For a second, he just stood there. Hammer admired the sleek design; this was obviously more advanced than the War Machine. But more than Stark's work, Hammer swelled with pride over obtaining both it and the password.  _He_  made this moment possible.

Then a muffled shout, barely audible, emanated from inside the suit. "Turn on lights! I cannot see!"

"The lights are on, Dave. Were your eyes injured in the accident, too?" The HAL-ish voice wasn't lying. The eye slit lights were indeed on. It looked exactly the same as it had in Monaco, and like the other suit looked at the Expo. It looked just like Iron Man.

The goon started walking, but his movements were stiff, like the Tin Man from  _Wizard of Oz_ before he got fully oiled. He ran into a table and flailed his arms around, knocking over equipment.

"Get me out of this!" came faintly from inside the suit, but the tone made clear he was yelling.

The other two goons came to help, but pulling on the helmet did nothing. They tried screwdrivers next, inserting them at various joints and trying to exploit them, without success.

"Dave? Your friends are trying to hurt you. Should I neutralize your friends, Dave?"

The goon inside the suit screamed a muffled "No!", but it was even fainter than his previous words.

"I can't hear you very well, Dave. Were your vocal cords also damaged in the accident? I really think you should rest, Dave." And without further ado, the suit stiffened 'at attention' and fell straight backwards. The metal suit crashed loudly, sending vibrations out over the metal floor.

Hammer bit his lips to keep from laughing. He was glad this wasn't his problem. He got the suit and he got the password that opened it up. He delivered it to Amar's people in working order. He never promised to update Stark's crazy software or hold the hands of the idiot test pilots while they figured out how to use it. That was  _their_  problem, not his.

"Call Amar. Tell him to come get you and the suit," he ordered. The two remaining tech goons didn't respond. They looked quite absorbed in trying to ascertain whether the guy in the armor was conscious, or perhaps, alive. They weren't getting very far. But as they were both yelling at their downed companion in a foreign language, Hammer decided not to repeat himself. He could come back later and make sure the English-speaker got the message. He turned and left.

He felt on top of the world for about three steps down the corridor. Then something niggled away at his feelings of triumph.  _Too easy_. He was forgetting something. What was it? Sean Connery's voice popped into his head and whispered,  _One ping only_.

Hammer nodded absently _. Yeah, I think I better call Stark's bluff._


	20. Chapter 20

Tony's face still hurt just about everywhere, and laughing hurt worse, but he couldn't help it. JARVIS was broadcasting a live comedy show from the Mark V. Tony had programmed it, of course, but he had never dreamed of stooges who would accommodate his punch lines so well. The biggest downside was that the ear bud wasn't loud enough for Pepper to hear, and even when he had time to explain what was happening, it lost a lot without the impersonation of the HAL 9000 that only JARVIS could pull off, and the broken English of the Ten Rings schmucks who fell for all the gags. Rhodey, however, was in on the broadcast, and also shared the party line JARVIS had secured for them to use, safe from the detection of anyone aboard  _The Villa_.

"Ooo. That had to hurt," Rhodey exclaimed after the armor crashed to the floor.

"Sir, the operator inside the Mark V is currently unconscious, as the cranial protection systems were disabled as programmed," JARVIS informed him.

"Is he going to live?" Not that Tony cared much about his captors. He just didn't want to be blamed for first blood if he could avoid it.

"What?" Pepper asked in alarm. "Is  _who_  going to live?"

"Just one of the bad guys," Tony said calmly. "JARVIS knocked him out because he was stupid enough to get in the suit." It was difficult for him keep track of who he was talking to, since he couldn't make eye contact with anyone, even Pepper. JARVIS, however, had a much greater sensitivity for sound, and didn't try to talk over her, as Rhodey did a couple of times.

JARVIS answered after he finished: "I believe so, sir. His vitals are consistent with a concussion. He should revive spontaneously within an hour."

"Good. Leave him in there for now. Hammer told them to contact Deshpande. If he sends a helicopter, War Machine can take care of that, can't you, buddy?"

Rhodey said something that wasn't picked up by his receiver, then, "Bob's a little worried about aerial torpedoes. Can we get a lock on incoming aircraft, so I can attack before they have a chance to sink us?"

"War Machine's radar should be able to detect anything flying in under the clouds, but a helicopter will never be able to find a sub unless Hammer uses his sonar and tells the pilot your coordinates."

"Which he probably won't, because it was your idea. Nice reverse psychology, Tony."

"Thanks. I try."

Just then, a pulse of sound rang out. Tony heard it in his ear bud, but not in the room. "JARVIS, what was that?"

"It appears Mr. Hammer took your advice, sir. The ping originated from  _The Villa_."

"What's what?" Pepper asked.

"Hammer's sonar," Tony said quickly to Pepper. "Whaddya know, he listened to me."

"So he knows where we are now?" Rhodey asked.

"Yes, Colonel," JARVIS replied. "He will most certainly know about all the other targets in range of his sonar as well."

" _Other_  targets?" Tony asked, masking his alarm from Pepper.

"I may have been late to the party," Rhodey said, "but I brought along some gifts to make up for it." He had that 'I know something you don't know' tone in his voice.

"Gifts?" Tony prompted.

"I happen to have a friend or two in the Navy. Admirals, in fact. They sent us a little backup."

JARVIS changed frequencies so they could listen in on the radio call now coming in. "Attention civilian submarine, this is the  _U.S.S. Virginia_..."

Tony grinned wide and then whispered to Pepper, "Honey, they sent a nuclear submarine named after you."

"They?" she asked.

"Rhodey brought the Navy with him. Hammer's toast."

She muttered something that didn't sound very optimistic, but the radio conversation picked up, and Tony wanted to hear it, so he gave it his attention.

" _Virginia_ , this is the diesel electric submersible  _Villa_." It didn't sound like Hammer's voice. He must have hired a pilot, which was a good thing. At least  _he_ wasn't stupid enough to ignore the United States Navy. "We weren't aware of your presence until the ping. If we are operating in restricted waters, please advise and we will change course immediately."

"Your current heading is acceptable,  _Villa_. It is your cargo we have a quarrel with. You are holding two American citizens against their will and you have stolen classified technology from Stark Industries which is deemed critical to American national security. You will place the hostages and the stolen technology in your mini-sub and release them from your docking clamps."

Tony had forgotten the mini-sub was an option on the Phoenix class. He seemed to remember it being touted as a sightseeing bonus that was more maneuverable and had better fuel economy. And now that he thought about it, how else did Hammer deliver a jumpdrive and get all his people back after the ransom drop? A docking mini-sub also meant they could bring back food and possibly even fuel and air. All his calculations about when they would run out of supplies had been based on a bad assumption. He was lucky Rhodey had his back.

"Navy SEALs are already in the water to verify your compliance,  _Villa,_ " the  _Virginia_ 's commander said.

"SEALs?" Tony whispered with a touch of awe, trusting JARVIS would only have his transmitter connected to Rhodey's frequency and not the conversation between the two submarines.

"Hey, you're not the only one who can throw a party, you know," Rhodey countered. "There's an  _Ohio_ -class and a SEAL Delivery Vehicle down here too. When you said Hammer was trapped, you weren't kidding."

"Nice of you to inform me of the plan," Tony snarked, barely able to hide how pleased he was at the turn of events.

"It was need-to-know."

"Could have told me before I gave up the password."

Rhodey chuckled. "And miss the Stooges? No way."

"So Hammer has a mini-sub?" Tony asked conversationally. He already knew the answer.

"Yeah, but we couldn't destroy it because that would have put the  _Villa_  at risk. We want the docking hatch intact."

"So what are the odds Hammer is just going to do what they ordered him to?"

"Captain Mason of the  _Virginia_  thinks he'll give up the hostages, but keep the suitcase. Commander Bridges of the  _Florida_ has staked a claim on flat-out defiance."

"Wait, you've started a betting pool?"  _Wish I'd thought of that_.

"You want in?" Rhodey didn't seem to think this was crass.

"Where's  _your_  money, buddy?"

"Bob and I are staying out of the way for now, but if I have to get wet, then the pot's mine."

Tony pursed his lips, considering. "Sounds fair. I should surcharge if there's salt water damage to the armor."

"Me getting to play is the long shot. Navy doesn't want to get shown up by the Air Force underwater."

Tony laughed. "That would look rather bad, wouldn't it?"

"You're crazy," Pepper cried. Clearly, she was missing out by not being in on all their banter.

"It's all good," Tony assured her. "We're going to be fine. You don't have to do anything. Oh, except bite Hammer. I think he needs another bite."

She emitted a frustrated snort of derision. "He tastes terrible."

The hatch burst open and at least three people entered. Hammer shouted,"Damn you, Stark! How the hell did you get a couple of nuclear submarines on my tail?" The lackeys who had accompanied him started untying Tony and Pepper's ankles.

"Told you. The Mark V had a tracking device and Colonel Rhodes was on the case. I can only assume he called the Navy in. Not like the Air Force has any submarines."

Someone shoved a dark hood over his head and pulled him up from the chair. His wrists were still bound and he teetered, trying to gain balance.

"This is your fault. Remember that," Hammer growled cryptically.

The thugs shoved him along, but he stumbled in the darkness forced by the hood. Muscular hands clamped on his biceps and kept him from falling on his face. Disorientation closed in. He couldn't tell what else was happening. "Pepper?" His voice probably betrayed more concern than he wanted it to.

"She's coming with me as insurance. You're staying here to go down with the ship."

"No, please," Pepper whimpered. "Bring Tony with us, too."

"Why, so they have more reason to torpedo my beautiful  _Villa_? Like hell I will. This is the last thing I have left in the world. If it goes, so does Stark."

"What about the suit, Hammer? It's just a lead weight without me. You can't even get it back into suitcase form, can you? You should leave it here."

"What do you take me for? No, I'm sure as hell  _not_  leaving it with you. You're going to the bilge and I'm taking your damned suit."

Tony was very glad there was a hood over his head because it would have been hard to suppress the grin that formed at that little gem of information. He didn't speak because he was sure his voice would reveal his glee.  _Finally_ , Hammer was putting Pepper in the same place as the Mark V.


	21. Chapter 21

Pepper didn't like this at all. Navy submarines had laser-guided torpedoes and tough-ass captains who'd been trained to launch nuclear cruise missiles capable of annihilating millions of people. They weren't going to care if Tony was stuck on Hammer's submarine. She hoped Tony could contact them through that ear thingy and tell them the suit was going to be with Hammer. Then maybe they wouldn't sink the _Villa_  and he would be okay. The only problem with that was _she_  was going to be with Hammer and the suit, so if the Navy guys were inclined to sink anything to protect the suit, then she was the one in serious danger. Again. She really hated this damsel in distress crap.

Hammer's dinner charm had been feigned. She'd known it at the time and it was all the more obvious now. His two minions had stayed with Tony, so she was alone with him in the narrow corridor. Her hands were bound behind her and the slimeball didn't make any allowances for how hard it was to run with someone shoving you along, and knocking you off-balance every step of the way.

Hammer stopped at a door, banged on it once, and then barged in, dragging her by her upper arm. Inside were three men who looked middle-eastern, two of them kneeling over the third, who appeared to be unconscious. The Mark V was neatly contained in the suitcase, sitting at the unconscious man's feet.

"I see you got it off," Hammer observed.

Hadn't Tony said, not thirty seconds ago, that the suit would never go back to case form without him? Didn't Hammer find it odd the suit was suddenly cooperating?

"We no do it," one of the kneeling men said. He gestured wildly. Pepper concluded it had spontaneously reverted to the case, but JARVIS was never spontaneous without a reason. It was patently obvious to her Tony had ordered it. But why make it easy for Hammer?

Hammer scoffed. "So much for Anthony Stark being the hotshot genius."

Now she wanted to bite him again. Tony was communicating with his brilliant invention while tied up on another part of the submarine and Hammer didn't see how genius that was? He was patting these clueless idiots on the back for having somehow  _thwarted_  Tony? She opened her mouth to put Hammer in his place, but changed her mind before the words came out. If Tony had wanted him to know, he'd have made it a parting shot, or he would get JARVIS to announce it. Tony was playing with Hammer and using his cocky stupidity against him.

Pepper clamped her mouth shut. Tony wanted the Mark V to go with them and she trusted Tony. Hammer grabbed the suitcase and ran out. He didn't tell the men in the room he was jumping ship and leaving them stuck here with Navy subs surrounding them just outside the portholes. Pepper had half a mind to tell them herself, but they looked capable of killing someone just for bearing bad news, and by the time she'd thought it over, she was back in the narrow corridor, Hammer shoving her along again. At least he only had one hand to shove with now.

Although she wasn't completely sure which way was fore or aft, her guess was they were headed to the rear of the sub. One of the guys who had taken Tony came up a ladder from below to meet them. He was what Pepper would call scraggly.

"Not trying to take  _our_  prize, are you, Hammer?" Scraggly said in a menacing voice. He had an accent, but it wasn't as thick as the guys' who had been in the room with the suit.

"Not taking. Delivering. Amar is supposed to be sending a helicopter to meet us."

"Yes, but it is not for you." Scraggly was giving Hammer a look that could ignite an oil field.

"You don't know the password. I do."

Pepper rolled her eyes. Hammer actually thought that "Larry, Moe, and Curly" thing was important? Maybe he was bluffing. She couldn't decide whether she was on his side or on the side of the terrorist who didn't like Hammer any more than she did. She only knew they  _all_  thought of her and Tony as leverage and expendable.

They both pushed her up a ladder, but it was hard to navigate with her hands tied behind her back. She stumbled over the top, into the mini-sub. Light poured in, and it didn't look like sunshine. She made it to her feet with difficulty and looked out the panoramic windows. Huge beams, like headlights on freight trains, hit her from every direction.  _SEALs_. Tony had said there were SEALs here. They were good guys, but unfortunately, they only  _looked_  like they were close enough to help. That thin layer of acrylic and metal was all that separated her and Hammer and Scraggly from immediate drowning and probably crushing pressure too.

Hammer shoved her into a seat by the window, and then pulled a gun out of his pocket. He set it against her temple so the SEALs with the headlights could see it. Scraggly and another guy came up the ladder. The new man looked more Anglo and he also looked like he didn't want to be there.

"Get us out of here," Hammer ordered the Anglo guy.  _He must be the pilot._

Anglo sat in the driver's seat and started doing things with the controls. The hatch where they'd all entered hissed closed and sealed with a bang of metal. A mechanical ratcheting sounded. The mini-sub unlatched from the  _Villa_  and swayed in the current before shooting off under its own power.

Pepper's heart pounded wildly. Her arms were stiff in their bonds, her eyes were blinded by the headlights from hell, and Hammer had a gun pointed at her head. However, he was busy watching the pilot and the SEALs, and while the gun was still pointed at her, it was no longer in contact with her skin. Pepper allowed herself a deep breath and a tiny movement of her head to look around.

Scraggly sat facing the opposite window. She couldn't see if he had a gun. Anglo didn't look armed and he was in no position to harm her if she tried to break free. In fact, she had the distinct feeling he wanted out of this whole thing as much as she did.

Another deep breath. The Navy hadn't torpedoed them yet. That was good, wasn't it? Maybe they were going to follow them to the surface and try to make their move then. It wouldn't be any better position for Pepper, but it was probably a better position to recover the suit rather than destroy it or lose it to the depths of the sea.

 _Wait. The suit_. Where was it?

Carefully, she looked down to the floor, moving only her eyes. Hammer had left the case by his feet. He was too busy waving his gun around and showing off for the SEALs to pay attention to what he'd left at his feet.

Tony had specifically arranged for it to be here. Slowly, and mostly by feel alone, she inched her foot toward the case. If she could just reach it, maybe she could use it as a shield when the bullets started, or maybe...

Her toe touched the red metal.

A familiar British voice said, "Miss Potts?" a little too loudly for comfort.

"Shhh, JARVIS!" she hissed, but it was too late.

Hammer snapped his attention back to the floor. "What was that?"

Scraggly turned from the window.

But before she could form a response, she felt the suit enclose the toe that had touched it, like a cozy metallic sock. It enveloped her faster than she'd seen it form on Tony, or perhaps it was just so much of a surprise that time stood still. Before she could object or question it, one leg was covered and metal plates just kept coming. When the metal reached her lower back, something severed the zip-tie holding her wrists together. Shiny red scales morphed over her chest and down her now-free arms. Hammer didn't feel like he was going to let go of her bicep, but the armor formed right between his hand and her arm.

He retracted his hand and shook his head. "No, no, stop!" In the next moment, he remembered he had a gun in the other hand, but by the time he pulled his wits together, the helmet had formed and the faceplate slammed shut.

"You okay?" Tony's voice asked inside the helmet.

"I am now. I think Hammer might need a heart specialist."

"JARVIS, please tell me you got video."

"Of course, sir."

A loud argument broke out between Scraggly and Hammer, but everything happening outside her safe metal cocoon felt distant and irrelevant now. Even the gun was more threatening to them than to her. If a ricochet on  _Villa_ could have been fatal, there was no question it would be fatal in this little thing.

"JARVIS, put me on external speakers," Tony said. He didn't wait for any confirmation before he continued, "Hammer, put the gun down or the SEALs will blow the sub out of the water." His voice sounded louder and from the way it startled Scraggly and Hammer, they must have heard.

"Stark? What? How?" Hammer blubbered.

"Oh, please," Tony said with that exasperated annoyance tone of his. "You're the idiot who put Pepper and the armor in close proximity. I told you to leave it here."

Hammer's eyes grew big as saucers beneath his round spectacles. He appeared to be talking to the dark circle where Tony's arc reactor usually shone through. Evidently, the suit had some backup power source it was currently using. Hammer must have thought Tony had a camera or a mic there. "You promised to let me live. You said if I didn't let the men touch her, you wouldn't kill me."

Pepper had had enough of this whiny bastard. She knocked the gun out of his hand with one fell swoop of her armored fist and then grabbed Hammer by the throat. " _ **I**_  didn't make any promises," she growled. Her metal glove held him firm without squeezing and she fervently hoped he was wetting his Iron Man Underoos.

"Gun is dropped," Hammer whimpered, acting like he'd done it willingly. "Call her off."

Tony laughed. "I'm tied up in the bilge of your sub with a bag over my head and you're asking me for help?"

Pepper pressed her metal-covered face to within a centimeter of Hammer's nose. "I don't work for Stark Industries anymore, remember? I quit. This 'bitch' has no master. Tony can't help you even if he wanted to."

"Point taken," Hammer gasped.

For a few seconds, Pepper just stared him down, letting him wonder what she might do, letting him know what it felt like to fear for his life. "Get on the radio and order your people to let him go," she growled, still holding his neck and keeping her face in his. She waited until he nodded vigorously to let go.

When he pushed away and headed toward the pilot's seat, she noticed Scraggly had picked up the gun and now had it trained on her. She couldn't decide whether to tell Tony first, or try explaining to Scraggly how stupid it would be to try to shoot. It also occurred to her that suicide bombers were usually terrorists too. The argument of his own safety would not cut it if he was ready to die for his cause. She lifted her arm slowly, only meaning to calm him down with a stop gesture. But she forgot the palm of the suit had a repulsor and by raising her hand, she was taking a threatening stance.

She heard the gun fire at the same time as she felt the bullet ping harmlessly off the suit's chest piece. A split second later, the ricochet hit something else, but she couldn't tell where. The interior lights went out and the mini-sub lurched. And then she heard water, like when a pipe has a leak and it spurts out forcefully.

"You moron!" Hammer yelled. "You just killed us all!" 


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

"Pepper?" Tony couldn't help the anxiety that crept into his voice. He'd had enough of hearing all the action through the ear bud. He needed to be out there, where he could see the big picture and do more than just listen. It sounded like something had exploded. He was worried about the suitcase armor without the arc reactor.

The Mark V had backup power, but it hadn't been recharged for days now. JARVIS had needed power for Operation Hal 9000, and Tony wasn't sure how much power was left. JARVIS knew, of course, but the middle of an explosion was not the time to make such an inquiry. When Tony made modifications to the Mark V, he had programmed it to form around Pepper if she ever made physical contact, but he didn't have time to customize it beyond making sure it would fit her body.

He had to be very careful what he asked of the AI right now, because the core programming had always been designed to give his voice commands priority. His request for a battery reading would override anything she might need JARVIS to help her with. Since she was inexperienced, she would probably need more help than he or Rhodey ever did.

Pepper responded, her voice excited, but not as panicked as Tony would have thought. "One of Hammer's goons fired a gun in here. We're taking on water."

"Are you all right?"

There was lots of background noise filtering in, including a major shouting match between Hammer and other male voices, but Tony couldn't make out what they were saying beyond the name-calling. Pepper's voice was loud and clear, "You mean other than being stuck in a sinking sardine can? Yeah, I'm great."

"You're not stuck. Point yourself at a window and you can rocket straight out. The suit is waterproof; you won't drown."

"How hard is it to swim in this thing? I'm not a good swimmer."

"The thrusters work in water just like in air. You won't have to swim at all."

"What about the others?"

Leave it to Pepper to care about scum who only moments earlier would have killed her. Tony scoffed. "Hammer and his goons? Let 'em drown."

"The pilot didn't act like a terrorist. He didn't have a gun. I can't just leave him to die. I'm going to take him with me." There was a short pause during which Tony heard Mark V footsteps. "JARVIS, make sure this guy can hear me."

"External speakers on, miss."

Pepper spoke again, but her tone was intimate, like she only wanted one person to hear. "I'm leaving. You wanna come?"

The reply was more distinct than the previous yelling had been, but not as clear as Pepper's voice. "Out there? I'll drown!"

"How deep are we?"

Tony had wondered the same thing, but if SEALS were out there in SCUBA gear, they couldn't be at a crushing depth.

"We were at 250 feet before we lost power."

"JARVIS, how fast can we get to the surface?"

"At maximum thrust, approximately twenty-five seconds, miss."

"Can you hold your breath for twenty-five seconds?" Pepper asked.

"As opposed to forever? You bet!"

"Then hold on." The next sound was a muffled crash, not unlike when the groom steps on a napkin-wrapped glass at a Jewish wedding. If Hammer or anyone else screamed, Tony didn't hear it.

"Rhodey, does the Navy have a surface vessel up there?" Tony asked into the ear bud party line.

"Nope. It's just us. Bob brought us topside so I could attack if a helicopter shows up on radar. Nothing so far."

"Pepper is bringing you a present."

"I heard. We got room, but it's getting crowded. You and I gonna have to fly home."

"Yeah, well, I'm still tied up down here and not with the most hospitable hosts."  _Hint, hint. Get your shiny silver butt down here and get me out._

"Not my fault you didn't put a docking collar on War Machine, otherwise I'd already have got you."

"You just wanna win the betting pool."

" _And_  get my picture on the front page of the Times."

"Hey, I told them to run the shot of both of us after the Expo. Pentagon shot it down."

Their friendly battle of wits was interrupted by JARVIS. "Critical power warning in the Mark V."

He didn't qualify it with a 'miss' or a 'sir', but the AI made the whole party line possible, so perhaps it was to everyone. Rhodey said he brought along the Mark VI, so losing JARVIS or communications wasn't a danger. Much worse was the prospect of Pepper's suit becoming dead weight and dragging her down. Air wouldn't last much longer without power either. Tony remembered the panic when he first tried to break the altitude record and iced everything up. It was not an experience he wanted to repeat. At least that had been his own stupid choice. JARVIS had warned him. This wasn't anything Pepper had done wrong. It was an emergency.

"Drop the pilot," Tony said in a grave voice, not substantially different from the tone he used to employ when she was his personal assistant.

"No. He's been holding his breath all this time. He'll never make it."

"I got 'em," Rhodey said. "JARVIS, can you give me coordinates?"

"Sending to your display now, Colonel."

War Machine's splash was the only answer, so Tony assumed he got it. His frustration with being tied up and out of the action was mounting. It wasn't that he didn't think Rhodey could handle diving in to get Pepper and the pilot. She was probably no more than 75 feet down now. The critical warning gave her a few more seconds of power and she'd have plenty of air left to get to the surface with someone else providing thrust. She would be all right. The Mark V was out of terrorist hands, so he could let go of the guilt over that issue as well.

But dammit, he was missing all the  _fun_. If the SEALs rescued Hammer, he might figure out some way to escape with Rhodey now distracted. Plus, there were still Ten Rings terrorists all over the stinking place. Who was making sure they all got caught? But most of all, he wanted to stand and see and walk with his arms swinging at his sides. And if he got right down to it, he really wanted someone to dunk his throbbing face in a vat of Novocaine too. He was damned uncomfortable and no one was  _doing_ anything about it.

But just when he thought his self-absorbed pity party could get no worse, he heard shouting from what sounded like the ladder shaft that led from the upper decks. It was the same language he'd heard in Afghanistan, although he still wasn't sure if it was Arabic or Pashto.  _Crap. Those are not SEALs._  Flashbacks of Raza jolted his consciousness and all of a sudden, his throbbing face was the least of his worries.

"Uh, guys? I could use a little help down here. The Ten Rings goons are coming to get me and I don't think it's for a potty break."

Footfalls on the metal deck grew louder and the hatch squeaked loudly on its hinges when it swung open.

"JARVIS," Tony whispered quickly, "mute all audio until I tell you. I don't want them to find my earpiece."

As always, JARVIS muted immediately. Not a moment too soon either. Rough hands grabbed him and yanked him up from the floor. Someone pulled the hood off. It wasn't terribly bright like the last time he'd had to make a ransom recording, but seeing more Ten Rings fanatics glaring at him with unadulterated hatred gave him some serious déjà vu.  _Damn. I really hate these guys._

"You. Stark. You tell frogmen go away. Tell them we kill you if they no leave us alone. Come. You talk."


	23. Chapter 23

Pepper held tight to the sub pilot. He wasn't heavy, but his body was not hydrodynamic and that made him hard to hold onto as they wooshed through the water at ten feet per second. Of course, Pepper had no idea whether the suit had been designed to be hydrodynamic by itself. Tony had never mentioned taking it underwater before. Pepper always assumed water would get inside the thrusters and make them sputter out. Airplanes didn't work in water. Why should a flying suit of armor? Because Tony Stark was a genius, that's why.

The power alert had startled her a bit, but she saw Rhodey coming on the HUD; he hadn't been that far away. The Mark V thrusters cut out a little before War Machine arrived, but she had not lost momentum completely when he swooped in and picked them up from behind.

She was just thinking how Tony would be jealous right now when he broadcast that panicked call for help. Most people wouldn't call that panic. Tony Stark didn't panic. But Pepper knew he wasn't the heartless ice king portrayed in the media. She heard that note of vulnerability in his voice and it wrenched her to the core. She wanted to talk to him, to reassure him they would do something, even if she had no idea what anyone could do. Most of all, she wanted to  _be there_  for him, to remind him this wasn't like Afghanistan—he wasn't alone. But he muted his receiver to protect his ear thing from being discovered, so there was no point in trying to talk to him.

At least she and Rhodey could still hear everything Tony said, and most of what others said in his presence, if they were close enough and didn't have to compete with other noise. The big question was, where were those SEALs and what was taking them so long?

War Machine broke the surface and the pilot gulped in a huge breath of air. He panted heavily, but he wasn't coughing. He seemed okay.

Rhodey flew them over to a submarine that was bobbing along on the surface. It was at least twice as big as the mini-sub that Scraggly just destroyed, but probably less than a third the size of the _Villa_ , or at least what she had seen of the  _Villa_. It wasn't like they ever gave her a tour.

"Thank you," the pilot sputtered between big gulps of air.

"No problem," Pepper said as she let go of him.

He scrambled into the top hatch.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Mike."

"Mike, I'm Pepper." Rhodey let go of her and she shot a look back at him. Was she being too chummy with a terrorist? The armored face was, of course, unreadable, and he didn't say anything. She followed the pilot, still trying to determine if he was going to turn on them all and steal  _this_  sub to go rescue Hammer. "Hey, Mike, may I ask, what was your relationship to Justin Hammer?"

"I didn't know him. I thought this gig would be easy money. Pilot a big luxury sub for a few weeks and make some serious dough. I swear he never told me he was going to kidnap anyone or beat people up. By the time I found out what was going on, I was trapped. I told him the guns were stupid too. Obviously, he didn't listen to me."

She scanned the ocean in every direction just before her head cleared the hatch. "Well, it doesn't look like he made it to the surface. The SEALs might have him down below, but he might have drowned."

"I won't be shedding any tears. Why did you save me? You didn't know I wasn't one of them."

The ladder was a little difficult to navigate with armor on, but not nearly as hard as it had been to ascend with her wrists tied, and not so hard she couldn't talk at the same time. "I used to be the personal assistant for the man people called the Merchant of Death. I know what it's liked to be judged guilty by association. You were the only person in that mini-sub who didn't point a gun at me. If you did anything illegal, I'm not going to help you escape arrest, but I'm not leaving anyone to drown just for..." she chose her words with complete confidence in the fact JARVIS  _never_  ignored a mute command from Tony, "working for an asshole."

Rhodey laughed, but it didn't look like Mike heard him. Pepper heard it over the link through the helmet.

"Well, thanks. I won't make any trouble."

Inside the sub, another man extended his hand. "Bob Keckle, Miss Potts. Welcome aboard."

"Um, JARVIS, can you take this off me now?" she asked.

"Yes, miss." The armor deformed almost as fast as it had formed, and settled into a compact suitcase again. Why couldn't her regular luggage ever behave that well? She still loved watching the transformation, but she tore her eyes away to look at Bob, still waiting with his extended hand.

"Pepper, please," she said as she took his hand and shook.

Rhodey took his helmet off, but stayed in his armor. His would be a lot harder to take off than hers, and besides, he might still need to use it.

The sub interior was small, but not as cramped as the sub they'd just blown up. Mike stood dripping and shivering. Bob turned to him. "There's a towel in the head. I'll see if I can find some dry clothes for you." Mike nodded and followed Bob's pointed finger to the only door in sight.

"Attention divers in the water outside of  _Villa_ ," Tony's voice said loudly, with a tone that suggested he was being prompted. Pepper tracked the sound simultaneously to the suitcase, Rhodey's helmet, and the Mark VI armor that was strapped down in one of the passenger seats. JARVIS was patching communications to every available outlet. Even Mike stopped his trek to the bathroom to listen.

"This is Anthony Stark. I am being held captive inside the  _Villa_  with a knife at my throat." His speech-giving voice changed to something unrehearsed and under his breath. "Ow, you didn't have to do that. There's no video for them to see the blood. Jeeze, people, it's  _radio_."

Pepper winced at the mention of blood.

His voice returned to formality. "I can vouch that these people are dead serious. Remove the vehicle at the docking hatch now or they will kill me."

Pepper had a flashback to that hideous video clip she'd found in Obadiah's secret files. She could never forget how vulnerable and frightened Tony looked then. He said these were the same people as had been responsible for that, Ten Rings.

Rhodey put his helmet back on. "JARVIS, did the Navy hear that?"

"Mr. Stark used the same frequency as the one used earlier by the  _U.S.S. Virginia_."

"Are they backing off?"

"I was never authorized to break into secure military channels, so I do not know their orders, Colonel."

" _Villa_ , this is Captain Mason of the  _Virginia_ ," came a new voice from all the suits. "We are removing divers from the water as you requested. We would like to negotiate for the release of the hostage."

"Ow," Tony grunted under his breath, then louder, "They don't have anyone who speaks very good English, Captain, so I'm it. They're watching the SEALs through the windows and next they want the  _Virginia_  and the  _Florida_  to leave the area. They're going to ping you with their  _Nemo 1200..._ " He stressed the name of the sonar instrument, like he was trying to emphasize how closely they were watching. "...every five minutes to make sure you're leaving." His voice changed to somber and sentimental. "If I don't make it, please tell my friends Jim and Bob they're welcome to make themselves at home in Malibu, just use the back door."

"Subtle, Tony, subtle," Rhodey said with a chuckle in his voice. He let the metal faceplate retract so they could see his face again, but he left the helmet on.

Pepper knew Tony would never call Rhodey 'Jim'. That had to be some kind of clue. She also knew Malibu didn't have a back door, but she didn't catch what could be so funny. She had a hard enough time when Tony was straightforward. She had no chance at all if he combined genius with subtle. "Huh?"

"Nemo 1200!" Bob and Mike chorused, the two of them laughing heartily.

Mike explained,"I caught the big Navy subs on  _Villa_ 's EdgeTech navigational sonar.  _You_  didn't show up. No one down there knows about this little sub."

"Tony does; he has an ear bud," Rhodey admitted. "We were out of range when you pinged, but can't they see us now?"

Bob and Mike shook their heads, grinning like they were in on some colossal joke.

"Not with a Nemo 1200," Mike explained with restrained laughter tinging his voice. "It's a fish-finder! It's hokey compared to the EdgeTech. The display shows standard silhouette representations, not real sonographs. He can simply tag you as biologic. With Hammer and me both gone, there's no one down there who knows enough about sonar to figure out what he's doing. As long as you stay out of sight of the windows, they'll never see you coming."

"JARVIS, patch me in to Captain Mason. Use the informal channel, but make sure it's encrypted," Rhodey said.

"Connecting you now, Colonel."

"Captain Mason, this is Colonel Rhodes. The Iron Man armor is secure. Did you understand Stark's coded message?"

"Yes, we did. The pool is now taking bets for what Mr. Stark will label you as, with the odds-on favorite being the..." he couldn't finish the sentence without laughing, "sperm whale."

Pepper smiled, but she tried to hide it behind a faked cough.

"Wait. I already won the pool. I got wet."

"Not game for more fun, eh, Colonel? You Air Force guys are so uptight."

Rhodey uttered a sigh of defeat, but his lips curled upwards. "He knows we have to dock. Put me down for 'humpback'."

Gales of laughter broke out on the other end. "I take it back, Rhodes, you're killing us. Do you want us to leave?"

"At least get out of range of his Nemo sonar. By the way, what happened to Hammer?"

"SEAL Delivery Vehicle isn't back yet. They saved one of the mini-sub's passengers, just not sure who it is."

"We have the only pilot Hammer hired. He's cooperating. But that means no one on the  _Villa_  has any idea what to do if there's an emergency."

"Sounds like you have this well in hand, Colonel. Let us know once you have the  _Villa_  secured."

"We will. Rhodes out."

Pepper didn't notice when Mike resumed his trek for the bathroom, but he poked his head out the door when Rhodey ended the call with Mason. "Anyone got some pants for me? Shorts? Anything?"

Bob tossed what looked like sweat pants. "Sorry, Mike. We forgot all about you." He looked at War Machine next. "Prepare to dive?"

"Yes."

"Colonel Rhodes, we have a problem," JARVIS said in what Pepper recognized as his alarm tone.

"What now?"

"I've got a target on radar, coming in fast and low, heading this way."

"Damn. The helicopter."

Mike chimed in, "Hammer told them about the Navy being here. They were going to bring anti-sub torpedoes. We're dead."

Rhodey's faceplate slid into place. "No, we're not. I'll go deal with him." He looked at Bob. "Get the sub to a safe depth. This shouldn't take long." He tromped the last few steps to the hatch, aimed his repulsors at the floor, and took off.

"Miss Potts, if you'll take a seat," Bob said.

"I got the hatch," Mike said.

Pepper sat and buckled in while Mike secured the hatch. Bob looked busy, checking indicator dials and flipping switches, but Pepper had no idea what he was actually  _doing_.

"Down she goes," Bob said.

Pepper felt the buoyancy of the vessel shift as they took on ballast. They slipped beneath the rocking swells and into the silent deep.


	24. Chapter 24

Pepper listened to the JARVIS party line through the Mark V case and the Mark VI suit which was strapped into a seat next to her on Bob's small submarine. Tony had somehow convinced his captors he was qualified to pilot the _Villa_. He was definitely a genius, but Pepper was pretty sure he didn't have any experience with submarines. As far as she knew, Stark Industries had only supplied the Navy with deck guns and weapons that could be fired from aircraft. Probably, at some point, Tony would need to turn his sound back on so Mike or Bob could help him.

However, from the background voices carrying on in Arabic, it was apparent they weren't leaving him alone. 

“Um, guys?” Tony said in a stealthy, under-his-breath tone, “I don't like the way my hosts are pointing at me and arguing amongst themselves. I think someone just remembered I have an arc reactor and they're deciding when I'll be expendable enough to gank it.” He paused, faked a cough, and continued a little softer. “JARVIS, give me audio at 25%. Rhodey, talk to me, buddy.”

“Looks like they wanted more than the Mark V. They sent enough Mi-24s to transport all their people and then some.” Rhodey had to talk over the sound of multiple bullets ricocheting off his armor. At least Pepper understand his jargon. She hadn't spent all those years at SI when they were a weapons developer without picking up plenty of background knowledge in the business. Mi-24s were Russian attack helicopters. Rhodey's voice wasn't panicked, but it was stressful enough for Pepper to realize it was _not_ going to be a 'this-shouldn't-take-long' thing like he first thought. 

Decision time. Pepper spoke up, using her best CEO take-charge voice. “Bob, how much do you want for your submarine?”

“It's not for sale. Why?”

“Because Stark Industries needs it. Now.”

“Pepper,” Tony whispered. “Don't even think about it.” It had to be hard for him to whisper when he probably wanted to yell.

“I'm still CEO and I _will_ protect our assets. There is no Clean Energy Program, no Stark Industries at all, without _you_.” Not to mention, she couldn't handle it if anything happened to him. There was no way she could stand by and wait if he was in immediate danger of having his reactor yanked.

Bob swiveled in his seat and gave her a huge grin. “Miss Potts, my sub is at your disposal. Tell me where you want it.”

“The plan was to dock with the _Villa_ , right? Do it now.”

“You got it,” Bob said, directing the bow planes into diving position. The sub angled down.

“The plan _was_ ,” Tony hissed through his teeth, “for War Machine to come through that hatch. These guys have machine guns.”

Pepper decided to do an end-run around Tony. “JARVIS, if we can get the suitcase armor to Mr. Stark, it will be fully functional, right?”

“As long as Mr. Stark retains the arc reactor in his chest to provide power, you are correct, Miss Potts.”

“Traitor,” Tony griped at his AI, but only halfheartedly. “It's still too danger—Mute!”

“Who you talk to?” a heavily accented voice interrupted. Pepper didn't like how close he sounded to Tony's ear.

“No one. Myself.” Tony's voice was normal volume again. “See? Radio's off. Not talking to anyone.”

Just then, a loud explosion sounded over the open JARVIS channel. Pepper jumped. Bob and Mike both flashed horrified looks.

“One down,” Rhodey said. “But there's still two more. Go on without me.”

Pepper didn't mention she had already started to, whether he liked it or not. 

“What is that?” the terrorist asked. For one horrible second, Pepper worried that the ear bud hadn't been muted and he'd heard the explosion. Even at 25%, it would have been loud.

“That? Oh, it's a killer whale,” Tony said nonchalantly. “You've heard of Shamu, right?”

Mike broke the tension with a chuckle. “Looks like sperm whale and humpbacks both lost the bet. He must have labeled us as an orca.”

“Drat,” Rhodey muttered, but it was unclear whether it was a response to losing the bet or something else he was dealing with. By the sound of things, he wasn't out of the woods yet. But Pepper had to assume he could take care of himself and the Mi-24s. She directed her attention back to Bob and Mike, who continued the whale discussion as if they hadn't heard Rhodey.

“Sperms and humpbacks are both too big,” Bob remarked. “We could only pass as juveniles. Orca is much closer to the right size. Stark's a genius.”

“He is that,” Pepper admitted. She turned to the Mark VI armor. “JARVIS, will this suit fit any of us?”

“Mr. Keckle's dimensions are not compatible with current specifications. The rescued pilot meets specifications, but as he was part of the group who kidnapped you, my programming would not allow him to put on the armor without Mr. Stark's express consent.”

Which she couldn't ask for right now, and which Tony was unlikely to give even if they could ask. She couldn't blame him for that. Hammer had hired Mike and even if he seemed trustworthy after talking to him for five minutes, there was no telling what he might do if Hammer's coveted prize was just handed to him.

There was one more option, and she was glad Tony couldn't hear what she was about to suggest, or he would very likely veto it. She drew a deep breath. “What about _me_ , JARVIS? Can I wear it long enough to get through the hatch and give Tony the case suit?”

“It may be a tight fit in a few spots, miss, as it was designed for a male anatomy, but yes, you are an authorized user. Backup power can provide assisted hydraulics for movement and the same level of communications as I am currently providing, but you will not have tactical display or repulsors.”

“I don't want any weapons. I just want to be bullet-proof when I make the hand-off.”

“You will need assistance assembling the armor without a gantry, miss. The Mark VI does not form automatically like the Mark V.”

“Bob? Mike? I could use a little help.”

Bob didn't look up from the controls. “Sorry, Miss Potts, but we don't have an auto-pilot, so one of us has to drive this 'orca'.”

“I'd be happy to,” Mike said as he released his seat belt. “Assuming the armor won't electrocute me or anything.” He managed a nervous half-smile at the empty suit.

JARVIS responded with, “As long as you make no threatening moves, it is perfectly safe.”

Pepper wondered what dastardly pitfalls Tony might have programmed JARVIS to execute under such circumstances. Surely, nothing worse than the concussion given to the man who tried to wear the other suit, but she really wasn't concerned. Mike was just going to turn some wrenches.

She released her own seat belt and then reached over and unbuckled the belt holding the armor in the spare passenger seat. As they were still angled for descent, the armor leaned forward. Pepper caught it and shoved it into the aisle. It landed on the floor.

“Okay, JARVIS, tell us what to do. I need to be ready by the time Bob gets us docked.”

Bob told them where Rhodey had left the tools he had brought for his own armor. Pepper was glad even the great War Machine needed help if he wasn't using one of Tony's fancy on-and-off doohickeys. She was a little nervous about this, but after surviving the shot that sunk the mini-sub, a significant part of her was secretly looking forward to it. The suits were Tony's thing and she had no intention of stealing his thunder, but _he_ started it. All she did was touch the suitcase with a toe and bam! It was all over her without even asking her permission.

She knew that had been for her protection and she was grateful, but this time was a little different. She had a choice. They could wait for Rhodey to finish up his helicopter battle and hope he got down here in time. The delay might only be ten minutes and might not matter at all. But Pepper wasn't willing to take that chance. She was getting inside this suit and she was going back into Hammer's submarine before some terrorist yanked the reactor out of Tony's chest, and woe be to any terrorist who stood in her way.

Tony would be pissed she took any risks on his behalf, but that was just too damned bad. He was the king of risk-taking. She'd had to learn to deal with it, so it was with a sense of irony and empowerment that she would turn the tables and let _him_ deal, for once.

With JARVIS's helpful instructions and Mike's deft turn of a wrench here and there, she had the whole suit on, except the faceplate was retracted. JARVIS said she'd be able to see out through the eye slits, but without the head's up display, it would be like looking through a Halloween mask. She wasn't going to limit her vision like that until she had to.

Too nervous to sit, she stood by the exit hatch, holding the suitcase in one hand and one of the ladder rungs in the other. This suit was heavier than the other one and if she lost balance and fell on her face, she'd never hear the end of it. Even if Mike and Bob were sworn to secrecy, JARVIS would have the whole thing recorded in IMAX 3D so Tony could watch, rewind, and replay it in slo-mo, over and over.

JARVIS didn't pause in broadcasting Rhodey's frustrated grunts and little squees of delight at the hits he made, along with so many ricochets and gunshots, it sounded like a war movie. The pickup mic in Tony's ear was getting increasingly noisy as well, but it was all in Arabic and without Tony adding in any English, she couldn't tell if it was anything threatening or not.

“JARVIS, once we dock, I need you to mute Colonel Rhodes unless he addresses Tony or me directly.”

“Of course, miss. Would you like me to mute the terrorists as well?”

“Yes, unless they speak English.”

“Very well. Might I offer some calming music, perhaps?”

“Music? What, did Tony install woofers in here?”

“Mr. Stark often requests AC/DC or Black Sabbath when he is approaching an unknown or potentially hazardous situation, but anything in his home collection is available through the same speakers you are currently listening through.”

She was quite familiar with his collection, because she used to program the mansion's intercom music when she had to work there, or when Tony had guests, but not live music. “Night on Bald Mountain; Bernstein, New York Philharmonic. But don't start until the hatch is secured and open.”

“Yes, miss.”

“Okay, Miss Potts,” Bob said, “I'm just a foot away. Do you want me to dock, or wait for a sign from Mr. Stark?”

“What that killer whale doing?” the terrorist voice said. “You lie, Stark. That no whale.”

“Me? That's what the sonar says. It probably thinks we're its momma. It may try to nurse, but when it can't find a nipple, it'll leave.”

“That's the sign,” Pepper said. “Dock us.”


	25. Chapter 25

Tony was outnumbered by about twelve to one, and at least half of them had automatic weapons. If he had his armor, that would mean exactly zip. But he didn't have it. He figured the only thing keeping him alive was the fact Hammer took his submarine pilot with him and no one aboard the  _Villa_  had any idea how to drive this monstrosity. Tony didn't really know how to drive either, but no one else knew it. Claiming he could do it earned him the cutting of the zip-ties around his wrists and then faking it managed to buy a few more small advantages. He was a bit surprised he got away with shutting off the navigational sonar and telling his captors that the fish-finder was their only sensor.

The Navy had been sporting enough to further his bluff by hightailing it out of range of the inferior instrument, thus giving the bad guys that lovely sense of false security. He highly doubted the nuclear subs would have been so charitable had Rhodey not been able to report the Mark V was out of terrorist hands. But the whole point to the bluff was to give War Machine a chance to get his armored butt down here and get him out. That  _had been_  the plan, but once again, Hammer had thrown a wrench (no doubt forged in China of some cheap alloy) into Tony's perfectly brilliant plans by sending not one, but three freaking Russian attack choppers, to keep Rhodey busy.

Actually, that was giving Hammer way too much credit. He probably just called for a taxi. Deshpande was more likely the one who thought Mi-24s with big guns and anti-submarine torpedoes might be prudent. No doubt they were highly pissed when War Machine came to greet them and Hammer didn't show up with the Mark V.

So Rhodey had his hands full and Tony couldn't fault him for it. Pepper, however, with that stubborn streak of hers, was dragging Bob down here anyway. It sounded like she planned to throw the Mark V back into the  _Villa_ , like she threw it out of the Rolls in Monaco. But this was nothing like Monaco. The only person anyone had to worry about then had been Vanko, and his attention had been all on Tony. Here, there were a dozen armed terrorists to grab it. After all Tony endured to get it out of their hands, he couldn't believe Pepper was going to give it back. The only thing that could be worse was if she got herself or Bob killed in the process.

Tony had told his captors the "killer whale" following them was a baby looking for mama's teat. Whether they believed it, or even understood his ridiculous lie, was anyone's guess. But even if they did believe it at first, surely, all bets would be off when little Shamu ended up having a metallic docking collar and not a soft pink tongue. No one was going to listen to submarine safety tips and put their guns down when the whale feces hit the prop blade. Bullets were going to fly and he had no idea how to stop them.

Clang! Bob's sub made the whole  _Villa_  sway when it coupled. Tony wanted to go down there so much it made his battered face throb all the harder, but he couldn't think of a good enough excuse to get off the bridge. His only chance was to play dumb and hope Bob and Pepper were smart enough not to hand over the Mark V to terrorists. The HAL Protocol would only keep them from using the armor so long, and if they took his arc reactor too, all was lost. Of course, the  _Virginia_  and the  _Florida_  would probably blow the  _Villa_  out of the water once Tony, Bob, and Pepper were all dead, but that was hardly comforting.

Panicked Arabic shouts echoed all over the sub. They didn't sound very happy. The Translator Guy grabbed Tony and shoved him into a console, face-first. Another man pressed a gun against his ear. They drew his hands behind his back and secured them once again in a zip-tie.  _Well, this is it. Take my reactor and I'm done_.

His captors yelled at each other in Arabic, and then pushed him out the hatch. Surprisingly, his reactor was still in place and they were shoving him toward the docking collar. At least that was his guess, based on memory of the Phoenix blueprints, which he'd studied ages ago in Pepper's apartment.  _Oh, so more hostage crap_. These guys were so predictable.

From the number of guns pointed at the ceiling hatch which led to the docking collar, Tony reasoned they must have decided the SEALs had come back. He was going to play human shield in the shootout between terrorists (who thought death for their cause would transport them to box seats in a blissful afterlife) and some of the best trained soldiers in the free world.

Except Tony knew it wasn't SEALs behind that hatch. It was a rag tag group of three: a middle-aged oceanography buff named Bob, who was definitely getting way more than he bargained for, the sub pilot whom Pepper had obstinately refused to let drown, and Pepper herself, the woman these guys had kidnapped. The only one who could possibly have a weapon was Bob, and what were the chances he'd brought anything on his  _research_  submarine, besides maybe a spear gun? He'd come out here with War Machine, who was a one-man arsenal by himself. Why would Bob need anything else?

Still, Tony was encouraged by his captors' fear of the false SEALs. Playing the human shield was not a bad gig when one knew the attackers were not armed and it put him in the very spot he wanted, which was close to that hatch. If Pepper threw the suitcase down now, all he had to do was get to it before any of the gun-toting terrorists did.  _If_  he could manage to break free of Translator Guy holding onto him, and _if_  he didn't fall flat on his face because he had his hands tied, and  _if_  he didn't get shot in the back, it might work.

He felt like Bill Murray in Ghostbusters.  _Great plan! I'm excited to be part of it!_  Knowing the odds were really crappy and not wanting to do it at all. But just like the movie, he had very little choice. The hatch resounded like a gong. They'd thrown the suitcase down first, just to make noise and create fear. Good. Fear would work in his favor... maybe. The wheel that opened the hatch turned slowly.

Translator Guy wrapped his left arm around Tony's shoulders and locked him in a deathgrip. He wasn't going to let go of his shield very easily. "Stop!" he yelled at the still-closed hatch. Tony heard a slight tremor in his voice, but it could have been adrenalin. "We kill Stark if you no leave."

How many times did they seriously think SEALs would be willing to play that game? These goons had been lucky the SEALs had left the first time. Tony really wished they hadn't gone. He might have died sooner, but at least Bob and Pepper wouldn't be taking this crazy risk right now and possibly end up dead too.

He had very little time to reflect on the matter because the hatch's round door swung down on squeaky hinges, followed by a flash of red and gold. _The Mark VI!_  It landed on both feet with a metallic thud. Bob must have put it on, which was actually pretty smart. No arc reactor, so there would be no weapons or head's up display, but who cared? His defense was perfect. The terrorists didn't have rocket launchers, just bullets, and not even very large caliber. Best of all, he was carrying the Mark V suitcase.

Tony's lips curled slightly. The Mark VI moved forward. Multiple weapons opened fire. The sound was deafening, both of the weapons' discharge and the ricochets. A stray bullet hit one of the terrorists, but his scream of pain was lost in the chaos.

Tony winced. They weren't near any windows, but it really,  _really_  wasn't smart to be firing high-speed projectiles inside a pressurized can. And with all these ricochets in the narrow hall, he didn't feel safe at all. At least Translator Guy freaked out enough to redirect his gun from Tony's head to the advancing Mark VI. Unfortunately, he didn't loosen the hold around his shoulders.

"Let him go!" called an electronically altered voice from the armor. It didn't sound like Bob had sounded over the phone. A red metal hand extended, pointing at Translator Guy. The Mark VI moved steadily after the initial astonishment one feels when discovering one is indeed bulletproof.

"JARVIS, sound on," Tony shouted over the din of gunfire. It occurred to him he could have done that much sooner. Losing the earbud was no longer a big deal.

"Put your foot out, Tony!" Pepper's voice urged through heavy breathing.

 _Pepper?_  The clues coalesced in his mind.  _She_  was in the Mark VI. It was hard to resist the urge to deliver a snarky comeback, but bullets were flying literally everywhere and he would be stupid to ignore her urgent instruction. He thrust his left leg out so it was ahead of his right.

Bullets pinged off the armor, sending sparks in a cloud. The poor Mark VI still looked banged up from its last conflict with Whiplash, as Tony had spent all his time fixing War Machine first. The armored rescuer swung the suitcase back and launched it like a bowling ball. It slid smoothly across the metal floor and straight to his extended foot.

"Strike!" he declared, although not really to anyone else. The impact did rather sting his toe, but the armor formed so fast, he didn't have time to process the pain. It was a good thing he'd reprogrammed it to form without needing anything but a single touch. He'd done that to give it a chance to protect Pepper, who didn't know how to grab the gauntlets, or likely wouldn't have been able to. How brilliant did he look now, as it ended up making it possible for him to suit up with his hands tied behind his back and his torso held tight by a terrorist?

The Mark VI stopped its trek as soon as the suitcase was in motion, just like a bowler stopping at the foul line. Tony felt the Mark V form like a second skin, its cool metallic embrace traveling up his leg like stepping into a swimming pool, oblivious to his strained posture and restraints. The zip-tie snapped when the metal came between it and his wrists. In another half-second, the red and silver titanium slithered effortlessly between his back and the chest of the terrorist trying to hold him. Hands now free, and shoulders encased in impermeable shell, he heard the hum as the arc reactor connected and powered everything up. He threw off the arms of his captor.

Translator Guy sprawled on the floor, looking back at Tony with shock painted on his face. He turned the gun straight between Tony's eyes just as the faceplate snapped shut.

"Give it your best shot, Threepio." Tony had meant it as a commentary on his insipidness and the fact he was acting as the translator, but once he said it, he had to grin because Iron Man looked a lot more like the sci-fi robot than the cowering terrorist. Tony turned his palms to hide his charging repulsors, truly offering a freebie, though it would not be without consequence.

Shouts from the other terrorists distracted them both. A retreating combatant almost trampled the downed translator. Tony grew tired of waiting for him to shoot and simply grabbed his gun and bent it in half.

The bad guys continued their stampede, although where they thought they could go, Tony couldn't fathom. He targeted all their weapons, and let the Mark VI laser them too hot to handle before they made it out of the corridor. No one even tried to pick up what they dropped.

Now confident in his superior tactical position, Tony surveyed the room and figured out why everyone was in such a hurry to leave. Water spurted from a wall at fire-hose-like pressure. "JARVIS, is that a hull breach?"

His HUD zoomed in on a broken pipe behind the gushing. "No, sir. It appears to be plumbing damaged by gunfire. By the way, welcome back."

"Thanks." A quick laser solder sealed the leak. He turned to his rescuer. "Pepper?"

"Yeah," she sighed, panting heavily. 'Night on Bald Mountain' played in the background. Although the eye slits were dark, he knew behind the faceplate, she was glaring in that 'my nerves are shattered and don't you ever make me do that again' way of hers.

"You're not going to quit again, are you? I mean,  _ **I**_  told you to stay put and wait for Rhodey."

"You're welcome."

Thanks would come later, when they were alone. He motioned her toward the docking hatch with a sweep of his arm. "Not a bad pass back there. Hurt my toe though."

"Carry your own luggage and I won't drop it on your foot."

"You guys done playing around down there?" Rhodey's voice cut in.

"Why, do you need help?" Tony's arms were terribly stiff and his face still hurt, but he was pumped and ready to go kick butt on some Mi-24s.

"Nope. Three targets splashed. But Captain Mason wants to know what to do with Hammer and I've gotta get back to Bagram."

"He's willing to hand him over?"

"Well, probably not if you intend to kill him, but he's open to other ideas. What do you think?"

Tony had promised _not_  to kill him, but even if he hadn't, Hammer wasn't worth it. He was a sniveling coward and currently stripped of everything he'd ever counted on. So what did they  _do_  with his sorry butt? "There's no reason we have to take him back to New York, is there?"

"The  _Virginia_  is headed to Portsmouth, but we're in international waters right now. If you've got other ideas, we have to take care of it out here."

"I think you should take him with  _you_."

"With me? I'm headed to Afghanistan!"

"Exactly." Ten Rings was probably headquartered there and Hammer had just earned their undying hate with his failure.

"They'll just send him back here," Rhodey complained. Evidently, he still held a grudge over the Expo. He also knew military protocol pretty well.

"Hammer doesn't know that. Tell him where you're headed. When he begs you to take him 'anywhere but there' then you might get a sudden urge for a snack right over Monaco."

"He's wanted for murder there, from when he conspired to break Vanko out of prison." Rhodey's 'aha' was unspoken, but he understood.

"Yep. They petitioned for extradition, but his lawyers blocked it. Monaco needs their day in court."

"But no fancy lawyers and no Club Fed. I like it."

"Thought you might."

Tony and Pepper arrived at the ladder leading up to the docking hatch. Someone was looking down from above. Tony retracted his faceplate and smiled back. "Bob?"

"No, Mr. Stark, Bob's at the helm." He thumbed over his shoulder. "I'm Mike. I was driving the mini-sub before some idiot fired a gun inside. Pepper saved me."

"Hey, Mike, I think they've finally got the idea not to shoot guns in a submarine. I'm gonna go round up all the bad guys and lock them up. Will you come drive us home?"

"Depends. Did you destroy the navigational sonar so I have to rely on the fish finder?"

"I think they would have been suspicious if I bashed it in." Not to mention, he never had the tools to do it. "It's just turned off."

Mike grinned. "On my way down."

Tony turned to Pepper. "You wanna go with Bob, or stay with us? I can't leave Mike alone with terrorists, even unarmed and locked up." He really wanted her to stay, but he could understand how she might feel about being on the sub where she'd been held hostage.

"I'll stay on one condition."

"What?"

"Get me out of this thing."

He found himself a bit conflicted because the thought of her in his armor was actually kind of sexy. He put his arm around her waist and leaned in. "You look great."

She scoffed. "Only because I look like  _you_."

He quirked a brow. "Fair point." But he was already considering his-and-hers armor for the future. Well, after fixing up the Mark VI and working on some innovations for the Mark VII. He'd already decided he needed his suit to be capable of coming to him, maybe with a dog whistle or a tracking wristwatch or something. But someday he'd get around to that...someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted a better climax than this, but the set-up just didn't make a big battle possible. I hope it wasn't too disappointing. One more chapter should wrap it all up. Thanks to those of you who have left comments. I appreciate it more than you could know.


	26. Chapter 26

Tony rounded up all the muscle and minions and locked them in the fortified compartment he and Pepper had been held in. Mike and the cook, Mel, whom they found in a fetal position in the pantry, got to ride without being locked up, but everyone was going to be detained for questioning when the _Villa_ reached U.S. soil.

Tony heard through the earbud that _Virginia_ was surfacing so Lt. Col. Rhodes could assume custody of Justin Hammer. Tony was a little fuzzy on how they were going to explain it to the powers-that-be, but that admiral friend of Rhodey's promised to handle it. Evidently, the entire United States military considered Justin Hammer guilty of treason. He had used all their logos and played their anthems right before his drones went on a rampage, killing civilians, destroying property, and undermining public trust in the military to something barely short of Vietnam levels. As they were presently outside of American jurisdiction (monumentally stupid move on Hammer's part), the Navy had a little leeway to bend the rules.

Tony triggered the Mark V back into its suitcase and then he paid a quick visit to the docked submarine to get the tools to free Pepper from the Mark VI. Besides the tools, it was high time he met Bob. A short, stocky man offered his hand as Tony cleared the ladder.

“Bob Keckle?” Not that it could be anyone else.

“That's me. An honor to meet you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony took his hand and shook. “Call me Tony.” A lot of people who had never done anything but mooch at his parties would presume that much familiarity. This guy probably saved his and Pepper's lives.

“Tony. Sure.” He smiled amiably, but he still looked rather starstruck.

“And _thank_ you. You did way more than I ever prepared you for. You risked a lot and you hadn't even met us.”

“Don't give me too much credit. That CEO of yours wasn't going to take no for an answer.”

Tony's head bobbed side to side as he considered. Pepper wasn't physically forceful like Agent Romanoff, but she was a verbal spitfire. If she wasn’t even listening to her ex-boss over the JARVIS com-line, there was no way she would have let this unassuming little guy get in her way. “She wouldn't have thrown you out without scuba gear.”

Bob laughed. “You're both welcome. I was happy to help.” He gestured at the tools on the work bench. “Colonel Rhodes brought those for you. Did he tell you he flew us out here, sub and all?”

Tony tapped his ear. “Yeah, he bragged about it already.”

“Hey, bragging rights are mine. I don't know anyone else on the planet who’s been in a flying submarine.”

“I been meaning to ask, what’s her name...” he gestured around at the interior, “your sub, I mean?”

“The _Sylvia Earle_.”

It took Tony a second to place the namesake. He’d never personally met the esteemed ocean scientist, but he'd contributed to her Mission Blue thing. “So Her Deepness is now also Her Highness.”

Bob laughed again. It was hard not to like someone who'd saved your life _and_ laughed at your jokes.

“Pepper and I are going to avail ourselves of the amenities on the _Villa_. The entry corridor is a bit shot up, but there's food and showers if you'd care to join us.”

“Oh, thank you, but I’m not going to pass up the chance to explore while I’m out here. This is outside of my normal range.”

“You have enough fuel to get back?”

“Oh yeah. Hardly used any at all yet.”

“Fuel's on me. That was our agreement.”

Bob nodded. “I’ll send you the bill.”

 _ _“__ Good.” Tony waved the tools in his hand. “Can you wait for me to get Pepper out of her armor? I know she’ll want to say goodbye.” She’d probably want to thank him too.

“Anything for Miss Potts.” Bob smiled.

Tony nodded, then he turned and hurried back down to the _Villa_.

The Mark VI stood motionless in the corridor, looking a lot like those empty suits of medieval armor people sometimes put on display in their houses. Dark eye slits stared across the corridor, fixated on the guns still littering the floor. He knocked on the shoulder. “You awake?”

Pepper startled. “Uh, yeah.”

Tony set to work unscrewing the bolts which held the Mark VI together. It was a pain to do it all by hand. That was why he had gantries, so he didn't have to do it himself or rely on anyone else. However, it didn’t really take that long; it was just tedious and menial.

Pepper was wearing a badly mangled skirt, presumably torn when the Mark V formed without any regard to anything but the critical imperative he’d programmed into it. In the Mark VI, she had bunched it up to clear the crotch. When it came unbunched, he also noticed the blood stains. At least they were dry and not fresh. He’d been thinking so much about his face that he’d forgotten how she’d been kicked. He took her hand to help her step out of the boots, now studying her face. It was dirty and tear-stained and her hair was a mess, but she looked surprisingly calm.

“You okay?”

“No, but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore.”

He took her hand in his, caressing it as he spoke. “Should we shuttle you over to one of the Navy subs? One of them is bound to have a doctor.”

She looked down at her skirt, then back up at him, a smirk overtaking her lips. “Will you let them look at your face?”

He shrugged. “Nope. It’s not that bad.” Well, it _was_ bad, but he didn’t need anyone to tell him that.

“Then I’m not going either.”

It wasn’t worth a fight. She wasn’t bleeding. He had to assume she could take care of herself. “Bob’s going to uncouple..uh..de-dock and stay out here a while. Explorer stuff, you know.”

“I need to go thank him.”

Tony reluctantly let go of her hand. She headed toward the docking hatch. He gathered the pieces of the Mark VI together and set the Mark V suitcase next to it. “Security mode, JARVIS. I’m going to keep the earbud in while the armor is vulnerable like this. I think all the threats are locked up, but notify me if anyone gets too close.”

“Yes, sir. Should I mention I detected a hairline fracture of your left mandible?”

“Were you performing unauthorized x-rays, JARVIS?”

“Monitoring your physical status is always a primary function, sir. It was magnetic resonance imaging.”

“Noted. But they can’t shove my jaw in a cast. Let’s keep that information between us, hm?”

“Colonel Rhodes is no longer in communication and all other armor is currently deactivated.”

“Good. I’ll leave you alone then.”

Pepper’s footfalls on the ladder sent him to stand by the docking hatch. He offered his hand and she accepted it to steady herself on the landing. Bob peered down from the _Sylvia Earle_.

“I got this one,” Tony said. “What do you guys say, ‘Smooth sailing’?” That sounded kind of silly for a submarine. No wind for sails.

“Thanks. You too.” Bob waved.

Tony pushed the hatch closed and turned the wheel to seal it up. He offered Pepper his elbow and they left the corridor arm-in-arm, stepping over the various weapons in their path.

Pepper took the first shower. Even if it wasn’t for ‘ladies first’, she’d been stuck in the same clothes the longest. He had almost suggested they shower together, but if she was still having pain from being kicked in the gut, this was hardly the time to initiate foreplay. He sat on the bed to wait.

The master bedroom was smaller than the average cruise ship accommodations, but larger than the cabin on his yacht. He looked around, imagining how it all might look without any Hammer influence. It wasn’t all that bad, really. Nice thick carpet. A comfortable king-sized bed. With all the terrorists out of the way, he could appreciate this ride a lot better. Smooth. Quiet. Relaxing. Maybe he should sell the yacht and buy a submarine.

Pepper emerged in a white terry robe, looking about a thousand percent better. She patted his knee. “Your turn.”

Tony stripped out of the sweats he’d been wearing. He’d been glad he happened to wear them, both for the extra warmth he’d needed in that freezing metal cell, and for the extra thickness of the fleece that hid the glow of the arc reactor. Surely someone would have yanked it if he’d been broadcasting his vulnerability the whole time he’d been tied up. He took a glance in the mirror, but turned away fast. A lot of the blood would come off in the shower and he could get a better idea of the damage when it was clean.

The shower felt good everywhere but his face. Even when he diverted the spray with his hand and let the water drizzle lightly off his fingertips, it still hurt. He cleaned his face as gently as he could and rushed through the rest.

Hammer had a pair of lounging shorts that fit, but his shirts were too small. However, it was warm enough in here to go shirtless. Pepper eyed his bare chest with an approving glint in her eye, that look all women had always had, but never admitted. Of course, “other” women hadn’t really been seeing his chest ever since he’d had an arc reactor planted in it. But he no longer cared about all of womankind anymore.

The woman he loved patted the bed beside her in invitation. She was still wrapped up in the robe. He approached from the other side of the bed and crawled over to her before leaning in for a peck on the cheek. She grabbed his shoulders and held his head in front of hers. “How are your lips?” she asked in a sultry tone.

“Hungry,” he said matter-of-factly, not going to fall for any teasing right now.

“For food?”

“I don’t know. Can I have more of that ‘we’re both about to die’ kiss?” Frankly, it had been difficult to think of anything else since the threat was neutralized and they were alone.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Teasing is hurtful. Kissing—not.”

She smiled and leaned in. “Well, then...” her lips met his and she did a pretty good job of reproducing the kiss she’d given him while planting the earbud. When she was done, she guided his head to rest on her lap and curled her arms around it.

A knock sounded on the door.

“Who is it?” Tony called.

“It’s Mel, the cook. I brought some burgers down. You want me to leave them, or you wanna come up to the dining room to eat?”

He glanced at Pepper. “Here,” she whispered urgently. Her face confirmed she had no intention of leaving the room.

“Leave it, Mel,” Tony called. “Thanks.”

It wasn’t gourmet, but it was actually pretty darned good. They both had as much as they wanted. Mike informed them via intercom that they’d be surfacing for the trip back to land. Evidently, it saved fuel or time or something. Tony wondered if maybe the _Florida_ or the _Virginia_ had ordered it, but he really didn’t care. He didn’t have to drive anymore.

After eating, Pepper snuggled into his arms and fell asleep. Knowing she was safe now, finally, he also drifted off into a comfortable slumber.

_The end_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to think Tony would buy Hammer’s submarine when it gets auctioned off as an impound. He’d convert the diesel to arc reactor-powered and pimp it up to be his personal vacation hideaway. Mike might be his personal pilot, assuming Bob didn’t want the job. A submarine would be one way he could truly get away and not be bothered.
> 
> I’d also like to think Tony spends a lot more time in New York after this. They need him to consult on the Clean Energy Project and he says in Avengers that he did a lot of the “heavy lifting”, probably both literally and figuratively. When he lights up the Stark Tower for the first time, he and Pepper don’t seem like they’ve been apart all that much, although whether they are actually living together until after Avengers is anyone’s guess.
> 
> Thank you all for reading my story. I hope you’ve enjoyed it and even if you’ve never left a review before, this would be a great time to let me know what you thought, good or bad. I’ve been a little disappointed with the reception, so if you’d like another Iron Man story from me, please let me know and tell some friends to come read and speak up too.


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